The Great Divide
- krolesh
- Oct 2, 2024
- 14 min read
Brrrrrrr! My shower was so cold this morning that the water physically hurt my head. Like when you go under in an icy cold river and come up with a headache.
But it's invigorating, and good for my circulation.
And being here is completely worth it, when I see the view outside.
Rise and shine.
Yeah, here I am in Tajikistan, at Iskanderkul, Lake Iskander, named after that great Macedonian dude, Alexander. Yep, he got here too, the bloke must've really had the travel bug. And it would've been a pretty rugged trip to get here in those days, climbing high mountains with your army, and with all your armoury.
At breakfast in my guesthouse in Samarkand yesterday morning, a German guy, Ziegfried, told me I should come to this place, which is on the way to Dushanbe, as he'd just been here.
I'm glad I took his advice, but I'm not glad I also listened to some of his horror stories about hitching around this country in the last couple of weeks.
He'd had some rough experiences, ones I hopefully won't emulate, including some very hairy dog moments, being unable to get a lift for 14 hours somewhere, and ending up freezing cold in the mountains in some old abandoned hut.
Ya get that in remote places like this I guess.
And you also get people that have a really hard time travelling, no matter where they are, who seem to look at the world through grey-tinted glasses.
So yesterday morning I made my way to the shared taxi stand in Samarkand, and jumped in one for the trip to the border. On the way I met a lovely Tajik guy who couldn't speak a word of English.
On the way to the border.
He bargained for a supersized melon.
There were three of us in the back - him, me, and the hugest melon I've ever seen, which he just bought. My new friend commandeered me to be his melon porter for all the border crossing formalities. That was all fine with me except that it weighed about a hundred kilos, and there was a lot of walking to be done between borders, and at the Tajik side, to get to his brother's car.
Meloncamp.
Once there however they kindly offered to take me to a shared taxi place up the road, as they were turning off, and couldn't take me further.
First look at the Tajikistan countryside. It didn't stay flat for very long. 94% of the country is mountainous.
Then I grabbed another ride to Panjakent, the first town of any size, and grabbed yet another one to a place called Sarvoda, about 20 or 30 clicks from here.
The outskirts of Panjakent
This place reminds me of India, in terms of the haggling rituals. People seem to get pretty worked up about it, with drivers competing for a small number of customers, and getting pretty pissed off with each other at times. As well as with their potential customers, and vice versa.
Haggle schmaggle
Basically everyone seemed a little pissed off with everyone. My own driver was a grump, and kept barking at the 2 women in our car, who were themselves already dealing with a poor 6 year old girl relative who had motion sickness, and who spent the whole 3 hour trip vomiting into a plastic bag and feeling miserable, poor thing.
The driver's antics were the last thing they needed. Let alone the rest of us.
The two women with the little girl hidden. She was busy technicolor yawning.
Grumpyguts was also a bad driver, impatiently shouting at other drivers, overtaking dangerously, and even abusing someone at the petrol station for keeping him waiting an extra ten seconds.
If I knew Tajik I would've given him a piece of my mind.
But then I realised he'd already taken a piece of it anyway.
After driving through the valley for awhile we began to climb.
The driver stopped to buy something and I told him I was going for a piss. He wasn't happy. I didn't care.
The small settlement of Urmetan. Qurut, dried fruits, and soft drinks, which were cooled by the local creek water.
You can't see it easily in the pic, but ice cold water from the river is running over all of the bottles all of the time. Great idea.
Stunning scenery.
The other thing that I realised on the car journey was that I'd done a bit of a dumb thing. Because I'd originally planned to go to Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan, as my first stop, I didn't really have a lot of Tajik somoni in my pocket, the local currency, as I knew I could just go to an ATM there.
But in the meantime I'd changed plans, and wanted to go to Iskanderkul first, which is quite remote.
I instinctively changed most of my Uzbek money at the border, but while I was in the shared taxi (basically an overloaded small car) I realised that the towns we were passing through were small and very basic, and there didn't seem to be any ATMs, or if there were, they didn't look like they'd accept foreign cards.
I didn't have enough cash for a couple of days at the lake, and so I was sorta stuck for what to do.
When we got to Sarvoda I found a bank with an ATM. But it wasn't operating, let alone taking foreign cards.
Sarvoda township. Not big.
But lucky for me I had a few euros and USD tucked away with my passports, and I could change them at the bank.
I even got a good rate.
That gave me enough for a couple of days.
Lucky, because that would've been a hassle. I probs would've had to abandon my lake plans, stay the night in the town, and get a shared taxi to the capital the next day so I could get some cash.
But here I am in paradise instead.
The taxi drivers in Sarvoda were pretty ruthless with their cartel bargaining techniques for the last leg to the lake. I stubbornly refused their offers because they were so ridiculously high. And just when they thought they had me by the short and curlies a bus full of miners came past and I got a cheap ride with them.
I still had to bargain though.
I can tell already that this country's gonna further hone my bargaining skills. Everyone seems to argue about money.
On the bouncy mining bus on the dodgy road.
The scenery got better and better until I nearly exploded with happiness.
The road was totally dodgy of course. Corrugations, potholes, bumps, rocks, you name it. You can tell where previous landslides have trashed the road, and the surrounding hills were so steep and sandy that it looked like a massive boulder could fall on the bus at any moment.
But none did.
Thanks universal spirit guardians.
So I finally got to here.
This is the registration desk of the soldier who guards the boom-gated entrance to the lake district. He wouldn't let me take a pic of him, because Tajik soldiers aren't allowed to be photographed in uniform.
The trippy end of his caravan, leading to a water tap.
My cute room
And its beautiful view
A snack, consisting of eggs and melon. Dinner actually. Tasty, but I'm definitely not in Samarkand anymore. Bye bye stuffed eggplant rolls.
Then I went for a stroll, and the stunningly delicious eye feast totally made up for it.
I needed to put on a T-shirt under my shirt, and even wear my puffer jacket, as I was feeling cold, for the first time in a long time. It was actually nice.
Local animal options. I hope I don't have a close encounter with one of the dudes on the bottom right. Looks rather big and ferocious, don't you think.
Actually, I checked it out and there are probably no bears in this region, but brown bears exist in other parts of Tajikistan, between the elevations of 1,000 and 5,000 metres. I'll keep a lookout.
I chatted to some Tajiks at this beautiful little spot on the lake. They live in Dushanbe, and the son's studying IT in Kuala Lumpur, so could speak English.
They had buckets and buckets of, wait for it, KFC, which they'd bought in the capital many hours ago and kept offering to me. They were doing a day trip, and the son was preparing to fly back to KL soon.
Birds flying high, you know how I feel
My trippy bedroom carpet, with the writing printed on there in Latin script, and back to front as well.
I went to bed early. I was toast. I slept for nearly 12 hours.
Lakeside
This morning I woke to this view.
A bunch of women came across the bridge with their cows. They were all sporting beautiful dresses, and I went downstairs to join them for a bit.
They were bringing their cows down from the higher mountains, as the summer is ending here now.
After one of their little daughters took pics of us on her mum's phone, I asked her to do the same on mine.
But the women gave me clear instructions:
I assured them I wouldn't.
I told them how much I liked their dresses and they all giggled.
All their melons lined up in a row.
When I changed money yesterday the bank dude gave me over 900 Tajik somoni, but all in 10 somoni bills. This is about half of the pile. It's such a hassle to carry, but I feel rich.
Sarotoq
After brekky I went for a long walk, to Sarotoq, the village that Ziegfried told me to go to but I never actually got to yesterday, because the mining guys on the bus said it was better to stay right on the lakefront.
They were right.
My hike was about a 20 click return trip, including a steep 250m climb. As usual I left late.
The lake's stunning during the day too. But despite the heat I didn't jump in it. It was absolutely freezing.
Looking back towards my guest house.
My route took me right around one side of the lake. Not very nice is it.
The flashy looking building in the distance is the current President of Tajikistan's dacha, or holiday house, complete with not one, but two, helipads. He had the right idea putting it here, it's stunningly beautiful and completely quiet.
Mind you, when he's here they probably close the road off, and no one can go within a vulture's orbit of the place anyway.
Then came the main part of the climb. It was bloody hot.
Gorgeous waterfall
Finally over the pass
The small township of Sarotoq.
Mud brick house, with the old village in the distance.
I walked past a little guest house and the woman called me in for some food. There were a small bunch of Russian trekkers there, from Siberia, who've just finished some walks in the Pamir ranges. They said it was amazing.
I had a nice meal with them, and then played with the 2 little villager daughters for ages, at first they were teaching me Tajik words, and then somehow it progressed to all of us being in a wild trumpet band, which was a total hoot.
Then I found a comfy chair to sit in, with this view in front of me. I wrote for awhile, and then fell asleep for an hour. I cherish these moments.
Eventually I got moving.
It was still hot heading home, but it cooled off quickly once I reached the shade.
I went down to the river for a bit of a splash. Freezing.
The old village, now used to house stock.
Could be the Australian Red Centre, innit.
This is a billboard featuring the Tajik president. Billboards like this are all over the country. I've only been here for two days and I've already seen the huge personality cult that's been set up around this guy. His smug dial is everywhere.
This one says, "Foreign Policy of Tajikistan - Open Door, Peaceful and Impartial." I'll believe that when I see it.
Around this spot I met Navid, a young English guy with Iranian heritage who's just arrived in Tajikistan, he flew into Dushanbe a couple of days ago. He speaks a bit of Farsi, so can get by a little, as the Tajik language and Farsi are closely related. Navid's on a short trip through Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. It was super nice chatting to him, especially as he's all excited about coming to Central Asia for the first time.
We walked together nearly all the way back to my guest house, and then he turned around and went back to his, a couple of clicks around the lake.
It was actually cold again by the time I got home. It's sorta nice.
My host Uznia served this to me and called it an omelette. It was pretty delicious actually, although I've noticed they don't hold back on their oil in this part of the world.
They also don't bother with plates for bread, they just chuck it on the table. And it's often old. This lot had some mould on it. The farmer women this morning had some huge nons (breads), they gave me some bits, it was as old as these hills.
But it fills the belly I guess, which is good, because there doesn't seem to be a lot else to fill it around here.
Capitalising
So suddenly here I am, sitting in a park in the Tajik capital of Dushanbe.
It’s hot. Again. I’ve left the cool of the high altitude Iskanderkul, and am back to an elevation of about 850m, which, I’m expecting, will bring me back to warm balmy nights, instead of the double-duveted past couple of nights.
I’ve just been having an awesome late lunch and conversation with Adi, a guy from Romania, about his Tibetan Buddhist teachers in India and elsewhere, and it’s been super enlightening. He’s a lovely guy, another cyclist, and is heading off tomorrow into the Pamirs, a mountain range close to here.
We have a super easy connection, it’s really inspiring.
But Adi isn’t the only cyclist around. The Pamirs are a sort of cycling mecca for a lot of off road cyclists, and the hostel I’m staying in, the Green House Hostel, is jam packed full of them. A bunch of motorcyclists and travellers in off-road vehicles are around too.
I haven’t seen such a huge congregation of long term traveller crazy bastards anywhere ever.
It was a relatively easy journey to get here.
The first leg was another mining bus to the town of Sarvoda. There’s a gold mine past the lake and up the road a bit, no doubt it’s making a mess of the landscape, of the villagers' environment, and no doubt the villagers don’t get a somoni out of it.
And they need somoni. They really need some money.
The scenery was stunning, as I’ve come to expect.
The mining company is called Talco Gold.
Tajik coinage. Just like Kyrgyzstan, they have a rather novel 3 somoni coin. Actually, the coin on the left is from Uzbekistan.
I made my way to Sarvoda again, and then found a shared taxi to Dushanbe quite quickly.
When the driver took off like a bat out of hell, with me in the front passenger seat and no seat belts anywhere, I knew it would be an interesting ride.
I really don’t get what the hurry is. Especially considering the major consequences of accidents on these types of roads.
But actually, as I was squirming in my seat during all his dodgy manoeuvres, I remembered the days when I myself was behind the wheel. I wasn’t a slow steady driver at all, but zipped around like I always had somewhere to be.
This is actually a dusty football field.
Gutsiest Of All Time
Up we climbed, higher and higher into the mountains.
Scarred coal mine landscape.
The first of what would turn out to be loads of small tunnels.
And the first long one. It was over 5km long, and it was a bit of a living hell to be in there, for a couple of major reasons.
Firstly, again there was no ventilation and no lights, and it was long. The road was sometimes dodgy, and even turned into a small creek at one point.
Secondly, I’m pretty sure my driver was claustrophobic, as his behaviour in and around the tunnels was completely erratic. He’d slow down almost to a crawl before entering them, and then drive through at a snail’s pace, almost stopping whenever a vehicle approached from the other direction.
This of course led to the drivers behind us becoming livid, and then trying to overtake us inside the skinny death trap.
It was awful.
Then, when a frustrated driver finally managed to get past us, our driver would then accelerate like a racing driver and dangerously tailgate the vehicle in front.
WTF?
Of course, if a vehicle approached from the other direction, he would again slow to a snail’s pace and the whole dangerous game would recommence.
The release of tension was palpable when we finally reached the other end. We all opened our windows, and breathed a collective fresh-aired sigh of relief.
The views were stunning over that side too.
If our driver could, he’d sometimes take the gravel road alongside these short tunnels, even though they weren’t more than a couple of hundred metres long.
High snowy peaks
The smaller tunnels
Eventually we reached a town close to Dushanbe called Chorbogh, which the taxi drivers conveniently call Dushanbe when they’re trying to get you in their cars, but which is actually 15km away from the city centre itself.
So, car number 3, and I finally made it to the hostel.
City Of Gold
The capital of Tajikistan, Dushanbe, could well be in a completely different country from the poor village region I've just come from. The city is flush with wealth, and, compared to the poverty outside, feels like a world of complete excess.
It's the great divide.
Huge boulevardes and grand new sparkling marble buildings surround huge gardens, squares and monuments, and the city is jam packed with modern and impressive architecture.
After lunch with Adi I headed for a stroll.
Although my hostel is in the old town, when you walk 2 blocks down the road you find a completely modern city.
There's also some cute Soviet era architecture and sculpture
The whole time I was in Dushanbe it was 6:47.
The original art deco Dushanbe Hotel
Electric bus and tram
One of many many portraits of President Rahmon that are plastered all over the city. I'll talk about this guy later.
The Opera and Ballet Theatre
It's the last weekend of the summer holidays here, and there were a few low key public concerts.
Beautiful leafy boulevarde.
I'm writing from this spot
The brand new parliament building. The parliament is hand-picked by the President, and then goes through the well-used ritual of having rigged elections to get itself voted in. It's jam packed full of family members and cronies.
They even project the dude's image onto tall buildings.
So much of the city is currently a massive construction project, the second phase of a major development plan. Phase 1 is already completed.
Rudeki Park is one of the centrepieces of the city, it's a huge park full of massive statues, monuments and gardens, and is pretty impressive, if you're into that sort of thing.
The National Library
There was another concert in this park. A little girl is doing traditional dances. She was actually really good.
The next phase of development is gobbling up more of the old town
I had some fascinating conversations at night, most particularly with Austrian Tanja and German Mirjam, who told me a lot about what women have been talking to them about here, including the oppression they face from men in this country.
Tanja said a little girl in a group of women she was chatting with told her she hated a man sitting in the other room, who happened to be her uncle. When Tanja asked why, the little girl said it was because he beats up her mother.
So, the guy is the women's husband's older brother, and he beats her up if she doesn't do things the way he wants.
Unbelievable isn't it.
I mean, her own husband beating her up is totally unacceptable to start with, of course, but her brother-in-law too?
WTF's going on there?
In Tajik culture the oldest son in the family has all the power. His wife is expected to be completely subversient to him (of course), but she's also higher in the pecking order than the wives of the younger sons.
So no one wants to marry the youngest boy, because they're expected to serve everyone in the whole extended family. Basically a total slave.
But of course women have no choice in who they marry, because their parents arrange it all anyway. Well, the father does.
I know where I'd rather not be born a girl.
The Pamir Highway Beckons
The luckiest thing just happened to me.
I just met an amazing Austrian couple, Lisa and Benedikt, and they asked me if I wanted to jump in their 4WD van and travel through the Pamir Mountains, all the way to Kyrgyzstan.
Do I?!!!
They're the sweetest couple ever, I'm so looking forward to hanging out with them. For me it's also great because with your own vehicle you can explore so many places you can't visit on the limited public transport that exists here. Furthermore, the Tajik/Kyrgyz border is closed to locals, so there's no local public transport at all around there anyway.
So I plan to hang in Dushanbe for a few days, organise various permits I need for the crossing, check out some sights, and buy things I need for the trip.
Then we'll head into the mountains in a few days.
The Pamir has mountain passes of over 4600m, which is really high. Altitude sickness is a real possibility, and it's also freezing cold.
I'm so excited for another wild journey❤️
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