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

Bump, Set, Spike

In Osh, I got up nice and early so I could be taken to the rendezvous point for my driver to Murgab, Tajikistan. Initially, the hostel was charing a WHOPPING $215 to get to Murgab (for the vehicle..), but I convinced them that I didn’t need a private tour, and just wanted to go with some locals. They agreed to this, made some phone calls, and said it would cost $49 (USD). Still a whopping amount of money, but mind you, this is an incredible distance, over terrible terrain with expensive (and rare) gasoline, AND most quotes are in the hundreds to get here. So I took it. A cab picked me up and dropped me off with the driver, who was loading stuff/passengers, and off we went. Advice to other travelers- Idk how you find these drivers, but my hostel was pocketing $30- if you pat directly its about $20 to Murgab at the local price.
And off we went. The Pamir mountains are a massive range, extending from Afghanistan into China and across these ‘Stans, and of course, there are micro-ranges within all of them. This section of road climbs up towards the top of those mountains, and skirts alone the ridge lines and plateaus between those ridge-peaks. It’s really something to behold, seeing the jagged top of these famed peaks, and all the while the landscape is something so strange. It truly is taking an arid landscape and placing it 20K feet into the air- desolate bowls, yet snow capped everywhere.

The Eastern Pamirs
Most people stop half way to avoid altitude sickness, since we were climbing up to over 15K feet from a little over 3K feet at Osh. We went straight there, and I just drank water, and prayed to baby Jesus that any ensuing headache wouldn’t be my final moments with cerebral edema.
In the land of Mitsubishi Pajeros and Toyota Landcruisers, these roads were made for SUV commercials. It’s not just large ruts, muddy trails, snow drifts, or rocks, it’s that all of these things somehow are occurring simultaneously. It’s fun to be a passenger sometimes.

Pamir Highway north of Murgab
I was reading in my travel guide places to stay in Murgab. It mints how it’s a hub for truckers to go to China (that pass is closed to foreigners), to get to Khorog, and even journeys into the Wakhan region. I was looking forward to snuggling up in one of the lodge-like guesthouses and swapping travel stories with other weary back-roaders.
Well, Murgab is out there. I mean…really, really out there. The 3 establishments I went to find login were all closed ( 2 just had locks on them, nobody around, no birds chirping, nothing). Stone houses line empty dirt streets as the wind howls through them. The bazaar is a massive collection of old shipping containers (I’ll assume they’re from all the Chinese trucks that decided they weren’t gonna make it). And the mountains were looming over all of this scene. It was a bit eery at first.

Murgab Bazaar
With the aide of the english speaking girl at the not-open-yet hotel, I meandered my way to a guesthouse in town. Very simple lodging, but the price was decent, and I had a roof over my head.
I decided to take a walk and look around. The bazaar was completely shut down, without a soul in sight. The gas station didn’t have anybody there. Save for a few goats, this place was so empty. That was, until, I followed what could have been the sound of the wind crying it’s triumph over this place, but was in fact the distant sounds of some laughing and cheering. As I rounded the bend I found, to my surprise on many levels, a lively game of volleyball going on with what seemed hale (ok maybe all?) of town around to watch. I stood at a distance at first, but I ws soon noticed and instructed to come stand right next to the score keeper and watch front row. It was a blast. It seemed like it was older guys versus a team of younger whisper snappers. Game one went to the young guys. Game two was close, but old guys took it. The third game was the most intense (at first), but the older guys hit their stride and took off. Bumping, setting, spiking (right?), you’d think we were watching the Tajik olympics. With every wayward ball, sniper-lied spike, or obvious blunder, everybody would “ooo”, cheer, and laugh hardily. The score keeper, in the mean time, was teaching me Tajik numbers as we followed along (he served as referee when things got tricky, too).

Set!
I’m really lucky to have found that volleyball game. I know I’ve written about how experience shapes your opinion of a place before, but I could start to feel my opinion forming on Murgab, and it was in a slightly (OK fairly) negative light. But then I found a community that is OK with shutting down the shops, turning the lights off and going out to have some fun as a village. :Opinion changed:, and I’m still learning that lesson.
To the old guys: keep playing like you’re young. Young guys: keep playing like you’ve got something to prove (you do). And the the rest of us, make sure we’re there, and start making community a priority.
-BK