The Road to Dushanbe: Me and The Ladies

Khorog to Dushanbe

I’ve covered a lot of ground over the years. I’ve had some amazing opportunities, and always had a thing for getting out onto remote raids and seeing epic scenery. I perhaps was on one of the more scenic roads I’ve covered in my travels (at least top 5, we’ll say). Maybe it was the ‘off-the-beaten-path’ aspect, perhaps it was the fact I was bordering Afghanistan by maybe 100 meters most of the time, or maybe it was the energetic crowd I was with for the 15 hours journey. Sometimes you have days that just go really, really well. I had a great travel day.

The start:

Getting up at the crack of dawn in Khorog, I went outside to meet :whoever: was suppose to meet me at 6am to bring me to Dushanbe. This was via the driver I had from Murghab ro Khorog, who said his friend would meet me. When 6:15 rolled by (and given my previous lesson in Murghab), I placed out and started heading toward the little bus station. En route, parked in a more residential area was a short, stocky, pleasant faced guy packing up his LandCruiser. “Dushanbe?”- he asked. “Da, Dushanbe!”. We bonded. We loaded up my things a top the car, and waited for the next 6 passengers.

The people:

First was a pleasant lady who came with her mother to see her off. Next, came two ladies, each with a kid (about 4 and 6), but who seemed to kinda all come together. And a couple minutes later, fashionably late, came an ancient woman who, as she stepped into the courtyard, exclaimed something to which everybody erupted into laughter. You see, this matriarch was the mother of the two women, and obviously, those were her grandkids.
One of the daughters spoke a little english, but we quickly left english anyway and just preceded in Russian and hand motions. We covered all the basics: where I’m from, why I’m not married and where are my children?, what I do, etc. The Queen mother was highly pleased when she learned I was a medical student. It turns out she has quite the story. This lady is a traidiontal Tajik (well, Pamiri) dancer/singer, whose career over the years has taken her to England, all over mainland Europe, Moscow (where she owns a home- and her granddaughter studies medicine there), Afghanistan, and the whole region here. She was, in fact, just performing in Khorog. Cue the music and the dancing. She was hilarious, and a ball of energy.
An honorable mention to the kids, who were naturally adorable, but also a lot of fun to play with. When we were stopped to fix our flat tire, we entered into a fierce sequence of word-less games, which won over not just them, but the mothers and Queen Royal as well.
Now, I won’t pretend to know much about the inner workings of a woman’s mind, but I can make some geernal observations, and I an at least say that there are some incredible similarities between women everywhere. Examples: approximately every 10-15 minutes, they would erupt into scolding the driver for :something:, and then we’d all algae about it. At one point he stopped for lunch, and they ordered him to go inside and see what’s on the menu first (this was a first in all my vehicle rides). He reported, to which the Queen B exclaimed “NE!! something something”…and off we went to find a better place, about 2 hours later (and it was much, much better with outside seating, etc).

The Route:

It’s no secret that I’m traversing the Pamir Highway, the famed M41 through the Pamir mountains, starting (the most inclusive list) from Mazar-i-Sharif to Osh. Obviously doing it backwards, but last I checked, the road is two ways. It’s a winding, sometimes paved, sometimes mud, and everything in between road that crosses gorges, rivers, and climbs into the top of the mountains (in my case, starts from the latter and goes into the gorges and valleys). We in fact took a detour off the M41 itself, and stayed on the border of Afghanistan for basically as long as possible. It was stunning to watch as the Afghan peaks met the Tajik peaks with this turquoise river in between. What started in Khorog as a simple river bed evolved into a massive gorge and canyon complex that we were driving along one side of. I got to see it slowly pour into the valley that is central Tajikistan, and it was simply beautiful.
The journey include paved sections that we cruised along on, narrow dirt/rocky ledges, construction vehicles, cattle, to that-dump-truck-is-stuck-in-the-mud-and-we-can’t-go-until-he’s-out. The driver acted as DJ and we had a constant supply of mostly Russian/Pamiri/Tajik/Kyrgyz/Arabic songs , with the occasional American pop. The driver would stop at road-side stalls to buy treats for the car. The ladies brought snacks. I had a seemingly endless supply of dried apricots, some dried berry item, and an unidentified plant, with a delightedly tangy flavor. We ate, we sang, danced, talked, and mostly laughed for essentially the whole journey.
Occasionally we have days that are simply…great. There’s no great lesson to be learned or one things that made it so. It’s just a combination of “just right” that puts a smile on your face, and in our case, made 15 hours seem not that bad. I guess when seeking out the rare and out-there, what makes us the most happy is the comfortable and right-here.
Will relax in Dushanbe tomorrow to have a look around and recoup before continuing South West. Until next time!
-BK

A Cup of Tea

In Murgab, even though I opted for the :no electricity: guesthouse to save some money, I slept very well! It was mainly due to the fact that the first blanket weighed at least 10 pounds, and there were collections of furs on top of that one, so endless to say, I slept like a baby. Murgab operates kind of on it’s own time, literally. As in some people go by Dushanbe time, and some Kyrgyz, so having to meet my taxi driver at 10:00 was incredibly confusing. Naturally, he didn’t show up, and randomly meeting a girl who spoke english, she called him up. “Oh, I’m in Khorog now”. This, the guy who JUST LAST NIGHT was in Murgab, 7 hours from Khorog. She apparently swore at him a bunch and told him to fix it. So sooner or later, this guys buddy came to pick me up. After filling the rest of the SUV with passengers, we were off to Khorog.
This was the heart of the Pamir highway, and the essential reason I came to this part of the world. Known as the “roof of the world”, this (albeit mostly dirt and potholed) road soars alongside endless peaks of incredible ruggedness that went on seemingly forever. This is a nations of mountains, and we were in the heart of them.
One of the passengers, a customs officer, spoke English (and 5 other languages of course), so we naturally had a lot to talk about on our journey. Of note was the role of Tajikistan in Central Asia. He had a bit of a negative outlook on things, which is unfortunate. He spoke of a fundamental lack of natural resources or exports for their economy, and complained of the incredible corruption in the government. I didn’t have too much to say to this, since I never sort to telling somebody what I think their country should or shouldn’t do, I simply lack that knowledge or insight.

A Cup of Tea

Arriving in Khorog, the driver and I struggled to find the hostel I was intending to stay at. I opted for a homestay listed in my travel book right downtown. A very welcoming family, their home is attached to the city’s central park, and after settling (and SHOWERING), I went for a walk.
Immediate observation is the incredible freshness to the air here. It’s amazing, and reminds me only of a few mountainous places in the US. Secondly, mountains, mountains, everywhere. There is a beautiful clear river bisecting the town, and about 500 yards down, this E-W river joins another N-S river. Well, on the other side of that N-S river only 500 yards away? Afghanistan. Weird. Kinda cool. About 40% of my horizon is Afghanistan, and from here, it’s gorgeous. But another odd reminder that although most borders do have a geographic element (river), it’s still a political thing. These mountains all just seem one and the same, and the language here (which, is not Tajik actually), is spoken over there as well.
As I was walking, a guy roundish my age walked up to me and asked if I was foreign (how polite of him, since it’s dreadfully obvious). We started chatting, and I was refreshed by how good his English was. We just kinda shot the breeze, and it turned into a bit of a tour around town (this is how I learned about the border and immediate location of Afghanistan). Surush invited me to his home for dinner, and I accepted, and am so glad I did.
Here was a young guy (22yo), with a drive and passion for his country that struck me all at once as particularly unique, and all together familiar to some of the stories I’ve been hearing along the way. Having already received his Bachelors in Telecommunications (another theme), he did well, got an internship in China, and wasn’t satisfied. His dream is to make Khorog a better place. So he returned here. Unable to find a job, he took up a civil engineering position, and has been teaching himself the field as he goes in his spare time (as in actually- he attends the university here, etc). In addition to this, he has been attending English classes. All in all, he is unsatisfied.
We spoke (over a delicious dinner and lemon tea) for 3 solid hours. And it was mostly him. He spoke of a philosophy that the point of life is to make the world just a little bit better. He spoke of idea after idea of how Khorog could be modernized and improved (both telecommunications and civil engineering). He spoke of a dream that he could get a higher degree from Europe or the States “to have that life experience, to take something from there, and bring it back here to Khorog”. He has a vision to start construction projects to provide more jobs to the area. Of particular pride was the current construction (phase 1 of 8) of The University of Central Asia right here in town. He spoke of how the environment here makes it better to study in (it’s peaceful, quite, fresh). He spoke how they have done research on what makes a university great and are planning to implement those ideas. He went on about the civil engineering feats they are planning for it. He didn’t stop. And it was inspiring to listen to. He looked at me and with complete conviction said “this could be the best university in all of Central Asia. Maybe one day, one of the best in the world. Maybe your children will come to study here”.
When was the last time I was that passionate about something? When was the last time I was so proud of my country, of my hometown, that I wasn’t even faking it when I spoke of it’s potential? That I meant it with all my heart? Even typing this I start to think of excuses, all related to negative outcomes or why a place can’t become successful, etc. But, in a sense, Khorog, Tajikistan, a place may of you may have never, ever heard of in your lives, has many reasons NOT to become that. But hearing Surush speak, it melted away and I believed him.
It seems the fundamental difference is not only perspective, but an unwillingness to accept something less than your dream. I’d like to pretend I have that, but the truth is, Med school feels like a conveyer belt, and as long as I work really really hard, I’ll flop off the end, a doctor. Maybe the difference between him and I, is his ability not to just maintain a dream, but to not give up the act of dreaming.
Surush is actively following a dream. He is doing something about it, and it’s neat to see. I’m genuinely looking forward to the emails him and I will send over the next few years as we follow along in our lives. But I’ll tell you what, I’m inspired to rethink not just goals or “dreams”, but to remind myself of that ability to keep dreaming, to keep learning, and to stay active and alive about it.
One of the best cups of tea I’ve had.
-BK