Bring It On

I never expect traveling in Turkmenistan by ‘smartly’utilizing its relatively costly transit visa would be so eventful. 

First night I slept on the street; second night in a park; third night on the street again and forth night managed to squeeze myself in a private Turkmen homestay without prior permission from the owner.

The series of unfortunate event began when I arrived at the Iran/Turkmenistan border at Bajgiran. The formality at the Iranian side of the border was straightforward but not at the Turkmenistan side. It took me almost 3 hours of killing time and burning cigarette before the green light shone on me. First, the border closed for lunch when I arrived, then I have to pay $12 for the bizarre hologram entry card to get in the country even though I had paid for the visa. But then Turkmens were always given the priority despite the long queue I was in with other Iranians and Turkishs. When all the onerous formalities were eventually over, there is a 25 km of no-man’s land welcoming me forth. Smart minivan wanted an outrageous $15 for the mere 25 km ride. There is only one reason to explain this – they still have to pay for the bribe to the custom. At the Turkmen lower border gate, private car(there isn’t any taxi!) wanted 10 Manat to take you to Ashgabat, a mere 10 km away, but the thing is they will only take one passenger in a single ride. That means no sharing. The helpful Turkish guy who tried to help me by sharing the ride couldn’t do anything except waving good bye and good luck to me.       

After half an hour, I got down from a BMW in front of a hotel. There are more than 100 rooms there but the blonde unfriendly Turkmen lady in the reception told me it was full. Of course it didn’t make sense. OK! So I walked to the second hotel in my list, around 3 km away. It’s a homestay. It took me 4 hours of asking, searching, locating and backtracking on foot before realizing that the neighborhood had been demolished, allegedly to give way to Niyazor’s another fancy redevelopment. OK! Fine! I was so thirsty, hungry and exhausted that I sat on the roadside kerb in front of a grocery shop, eating plain bread and drinking Coke. Yaya…I was helpless. I failed to figure out what to do next. Then I decided to try my luck in the downtown, another 3 km away. Oh, God! Finally there is a hotel which was willing to take me but they wanted $30! I’m not going to pay $30 to sleep. I can sleep on my own. Then I walked to the last hotel in my list, another 3 km away only to get the response ‘We are busy’. Damn it. It was already 9.30pm. Then the idea of sleeping in the train station suddenly popped out from my mind. It’s another 2-km walk and I had to hurry as rumor has it that there is a curfew at 11.00pm in the capital city of Ashgabat. Foreigners are always the target. OK, great! The train station was locked up when I was there. So I ended up stranded on a bench in a roundabout right in front of the train station, helplessly, before succumbing to the exhaust. Luckier than worst, no registration is necessary for those traveling on a transit visa.         

The second night saw me being driven out by the Turkmenistan’s notorious police when I tried to sleep at the same spot. It’s indeed a good spot, with relatively ‘clean’ bench beside a garbage bin and a fountain just 3 m away to cool down the intense heat, if you can take in the traffic noise as parts of the musical fountain. I think I was addicted to sleep on the street.  OK! So the police blew the whistle and yelled at me frantically because I didn’t understand what he said(though I could tell from his yell) and apparently I was trying to sleep there as my body was lying on the bench and was bare-footed. I lied to him, saying that I was just relaxing and reading(In fact, I was reading some notes about Turkmenbashi and his version of Turkmenistan’s Al-Quran – the Ruhnama) I had to raise up both my hands in the act of surrendering to halt his yelling. He asked for my passport and drove me away like a dog(not me, he is the barking dog!). So it took me some purnishing efforts before I could locate another 'good' spot to end my day. Damn to those idiot Turkmen strangers who never threw sympathy on me except to wake me up everytime they passed by just to ask for cigarette! Didn't they see a foreigner lying on a dirty rotten wooden bench who needs help? Oh ya! The first time I was yelled hysterically by the police is when I was walking along a row of Niyazor’s marble-white vertical post-modern buildings on my way to the State Bank of Foreign Affairs, the only bank in Turkmenistan which accepts international withdrawal. I thought there was a bombing or something that could have made them acting so fussy and hysterical. I had to raise up both my hands just to show them I'm not a terrorist but a humble tourist. I almost had to drop my knee to beg for mercy. My money is just enough for Iran but was far from enough for Central Asia countries. I never expect I will make my way here. The last time I withdrew money was in Azerbaijan. I salute to myself for being able to survive without any withdrawal for 2 months. And to my surprise and disappointment(well, may be not as I should expect the worst, I’m in the Niyazorland of Turkmenistan), they refused to let me cash the money(There isn’t any ATM machine, you have to deal with them over the counter), claiming that I was using a stolen card as there isn’t any printed name on my ATM card. Hahahahaha…today is really not my day. No…no…no…perhaps I shouldn’t come to Turkmenistan.

After seeing all those lavish golden statues and ostentatious monumental parks allegedly belongs to surrealism, I decided to leave Ashgabat to Mary on a night train. I was worrying about getting a place to sleep if I took a day train or marshrutka. I thought I was smart. The boiling train dropped me in Mary at 2.30am. Damn it. So, another night on the street.

The main reason I came to Mary is to visit the ancient Merv. I have mentioned that I’m not going to just bypass this country like other travelers do considering the amount of money I had paid. So first, I took a bus to the dusty town of Bairam Ali, before making my way there, on foot. I had to walk for 4 km to reach the edge of the site, only to realize that the site is too huge to cover on foot. Again, under the scorching hot sun, I was in an ill-fated way to explore the site, which is totally in ruins. It wasn’t until I almost get dehydrated and succumbed to the savannah-like desert that I realized all the efforts were proved to be too silly and unworthy. There is nothing too see except some stones and sand ruins. Damn it. I thought I was young and energetic but in fact, I’m getting older and have shown signs of aging.

OK! So I paid a lot for the visa; bore with the unnecessary ponderous bureaucracy; suffered the unbearable arid climate; slept on the street; driven away by the police like a dog; almost get myself killed in the desert; …all for what? Am I traveling or self-torturing?

If you are reading this and can’t help getting frowned of why I was doing those, there is only one simple reason to explain all – This is part of the travel experience. This is how a country shows its courtesy and this is how I learn a country.

Sorry guys, traveling is not merely for fun for me. I’m a serious(if not silly) traveler.

Having gone through all these, I told myself there will be nothing which can hold me back. Whatever it takes, I’ll take it. Bring it on!

                         

Note: 1 Manat ≈ RM 1