Journey to the East

May 18, 2009


This weekend I took a trip with a group of friends out to the mountains in the far South-East corner of Turkmenistan, near to the Uzbek-Afghan border, and it was an adventure like no other.

After an hour of haggling with a driver of a beaten up old volkswagon-like van, we began the journey, and all was well until we had to cross the Amu-Darya River. Unfortunately, the main bridge stood uncompleted, and the bridge that was usually trafficked was out of order because the water level was too high. Who would’ve thought that too much rain this season could be a bad thing?

Nevertheless we ended up waiting two hours for a ferry that we thought for sure would never come. When it finally arrived, it all became worth it…watching a small little tug boat pulling along a giant 1960s-era ferry full of trucks, cars, and old Turkmen men who would not stop staring at us was priceless.

We finally got down to the south and began tumbling through the mountains on a somewhat non-existant road which caused me to have Cambodia flashbacks. How that beat up old van made it there and back, I really can’t figure out.

We stopped at a lake to swim for a bit and had an angry encounter with a group of stupid boys. They kept taunting us and one of them covered themselves in mud and came up to me and began talking rudely to me and grabbed my arm, causing us all to start screaming as many rude, obscenities we possibly could in Turkmen.

“We’re so sorry! We’re sorry!” they apologized.

“Don’t talk to me!” I screamed. “Don’t even look at me!”

And I shunned myself back inside the van. I get so frustrated with rude boys out here, it makes my blood boil.

We stopped off to stay the night in a nearby village in the mountains. One of my friends knew someone who knew someone who might be willing to let us stay the night in their house, so we gave it a try. Since there are no phones down there, there was no way for us to call beforehand. Luckily when we showed up they welcomed us warmly, and gave us blankets and a place to sleep. We cooked some potatoes we had bought a local bazaar and slept soundly outside on the balcony surrounded by more grasshoppers than I’d ever seen in my life.

The next day we headed out at 5am to do some hiking in the mountains, and to see the longest set of dinosaur tracks in the world. Truthfully, they were smaller than I thought they’d be, but it was still cool. It’s a wonder why they aren’t better preserved, however.

Later we headed through the mountains to a nearby waterfall that was absolutely gorgeous. We climbed over the rocks and took some fresh mountain water that supposedly had some sort of healing power. Guess we’ll see, right?

We visited a cave called Kirk Gyzlar that was absolutely beautiful. Cloth strips line the walls and ceiling of this place and prayer trees are all over the place. Say a prayer, make a wish, and see if it comes true...

The thing that sort of boggled my mind was watching people, in the open, put graffiti on the walls of these mountains and caves. One man just smiled and laughed as he did it as if it was no big deal. Not cool.

The mountains out there were so gorgeous I truly wished that I could have been sent there instead of Yoloten. I know it would be difficult without a phone, and more difficult being so incredibly far away from the city, but everything was just so natural and so gorgeous.

The best part of being down there was that the people we met seemed to be incredibly happy.

I think that’s why it’s so important to get out and see more things out here, because just one village doesn’t give you a true impression of a place…this country is truly fascinating in every shape and form.