Uzbekistan

One of the problems with being me is that things never get organised very well. It turns out I had been rather optimistic with my distance per day estimates and didn't really allow extra time for delays. So all the delays I have experienced so far have built up and they must be gained back somehow. It is unfortunate that the place they were regained was Uzbekistan since this is such an amazing and interesting place.

For the last week I haven't really done much distance, I've just been vaguely following roads that lead to old silk road cities and stopping for a while.

The border crossing into Uzbekistan was pretty painless, which was nice. I have heard stories about customs being a nightmare, they want absolutely everything to be declared. Every penny of foreign currency and you must have less in your wallet when you leave or else they confiscate the difference. The form only had space for three currencies so I put down all the dollars, euros and pounds that I had. At home I have a box which is full of various bits of money that have been collected from various travels. When I left I just grabbed all the paper and stuffed it into my wallet without really thinking about whether it would be useful. So in addition to the three somewhat useful currencies above I am also carrying Emirati Dirham, Vietnamese Dong, Malaysian Ringgit and for some reason Peruvian Intis which ceased to be legal currency in 1991. Plus all the coins from countries I have already left on this trip. So none of that got declared. Just have to hope that they don't notice.

It was immediately obvious that this was a new country. Uzbekistan is the poorest country I have been to so far on this trip, but it is really nice to see something so different from the massive cities and technological based life I had become used to. And of course that just means they are very relaxed about things which we in the west tend to get very upset about.

This is the main road from the border post. It is completely acceptable to herd cattle down a dual carriageway.

A short distance down the road I stopped briefly. There aren't many motorcycles in Uzbekistan. Most of the locals ride bicycles or drive cars. The motorcycle which do exist are usually turned into a sort of trike with a bed on the back to carry stuff. One guy used it to carry his children.

I think he just stopped to check everything was ok but we had a nice chat. For a minute at least.

Someone else turned up on another trike. He was beyond drunk. He could barely stand up and definitely couldn't speak properly. I gave him some water and a cigarette which at least distracted him for a minute. The first guy got very annoyed with him for interrupting our conversation and forced him back onto his trike and had to push him down the road before he managed to get the engine started and drive off. Meanwhile his kids thought everything was hilarious. Maybe that's the reason there are no bikes but loads of trikes - so they can still drive when they are completely pissed. Welcome to Uzbekistan.

Ok, so not everyone is like that. In fact, nobody else I met was like that.

I headed to Bukhara for a couple of days. Uzbekistan law requires that everybody, citizens and tourists, are registered with the police wherever they are staying. It is possible to do this yourself at a police station but it is generally just easier to stay in a hotel. There were a couple of hotels listed on the GPS so I just followed that into the city.

Along the way people would wave and shout from the side of the road or from their cars. Except rather than shouting "Hello" or "Salaam" they would should "Bonjour". Hmmmmmmm.

Yeah, that picture doesn't really show what the back streets of Bukhara were like. This one is wide with a really nice surface in comparison to most. And I got completely lost.

But then I ran into a group of people with pastey white skin and cameras around their necks. Hang on, I'm sure I've seen something like that before. But it's been so long I can't really remember what it is....

Oh yeah, that's right. I remember. Wow, it's been a while since I've seen a flock of tourists on the street. In fact the last time I saw that was in Istanbul.

This is pretty much the most exciting thing that has happened to me. So I had to go and talk to them. Turned out they were French. Oh well, you can't have everything.

In fact every single other tourist in the whole of Bukhara was French. I had no idea the French were so interested in Uzbekistan. That will be why people are shouting "Bonjour" instead of "Hello".

For some reason I wasn't really expecting this level of tourism here. Not sure why, I just assumed that people didn't go to central Asia on holiday. But there are tourists everywhere and what with being forced to stay in (cheap) hotels I get to meet loads of backpackers and cyclists from all over the world. There is good and bad to that. It's nice to be able to swap stories and tips for the future, but it's also annoying to constantly have the same conversation. It also means that I have had less contact with the Uzbek people. Where there are large numbers of tourists there is a tourist industry selling tacky souvenirs and overpriced food. I think I have been rather spoiled in the last couple weeks. I have been the only tourist for miles which meant I got to meet with and talk with local people without the pretence. I miss that.


Bukhara is an old silk road city that has a really nice laid back atmosphere to it. The central part of the city a square with a fountain. At night everyone comes out and just sits there.

And the rest of the city is full of really beautiful old buildings.

This is The Ark - the old citadel. Of course it was closed for renovation when I was there

After a day relaxing in a hamam it was time to head off to Samarkand

Samarkand is home to the most famous silk road attraction - the Registan.

It would have been a lot nicer but like I said the tourist industry is really active here. The medressas were full of shops all selling "I heart UZ" stickers and tshirts, rugs and plastic models of the registan that break as soon as you look at them.

And that brings be nicely on to money (it doesn't really, I just wanted to get this in somewhere). I've been to countries before where everything is priced with lots of zeros at the end. Uzbekistan is another one. The exchange rate is something like 1 dollar to 2800 som. That's ok. But what makes Uzbekistan special is that they refuse to issue large value bank notes. The largest note is 1000 som, about 35 US cents. Everything is much cheaper here but it still leads to situations like this.

Anybody want to guess how much is here?

And this is a typical scene, this time in a restaurant.

You can't really see, but that pile of notes is at least 15 cm deep.

A bazaar on the outskirts of Samarkand

And so it was time to leave Samarkand and start heading to Tajikistan. For reasons of time I had decided to cut out the loop I was going to do in the north and take the southern border instead which meant I could get to Dushanbe in 2 days.

After the deserts of Iran and Turkmenistan it has been really nice seeing agriculture on a bigger scale here. Outside of the cities there are fields everywhere and the work is very often done using animals or by hand. There are tractors and other mechanical equipment about but it seems that everyone here has a donkey.

I left Samarkand far later than I had wanted so just kept riding. Eventually the sun went down and I was struggling to find a hotel. Not good. As part of the registration procedure the hotel issues slips of paper which need to be presented at the border in order to avoid a large fine. I nipped into a small farming town when it was nearly pitch dark where I had been told there was a hotel. I ran into one guy who gave me directions. The roads were tiny and unpaved with no signs and I was not sure I was going the right direction (this town wasn't on any of my maps). I asked another guy called Mohammedi who told me to turn around and follow him. I did so and as we went back up the road we met the first guy I has asked who looked confused and tried to say I was going the wrong way.  Mohammedi simply waved at him, shouted "Tourist! Tourist!" and carried on running in front of me. I had assumed he was taking me to the hotel but instead we ended up at his house.

We had to squeeze the bike through a very narrow gate. It didn't go so well.

And the left hand mirror broke ever so slightly. So it was expertly repaired with unbreakable electrical tape. Honestly, I am proud of this one. You would never know anything had happened.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure this will get through MOT.

Mohammedi and 2 year old Shahoor

Every family has a pet cow or 2

The house was basic to say the least. The electricity was very temperamental and there was a hole in the garden for a toilet. But once again I was humbled by the generosity of people who seem to me to have very little. Mohammedi is some sort of farmer who built the house himself. He has 2 beautiful children and a caring wife who made sure that we were fed properly when we turned up at the house very late at night. During the evening we tried to talk to each other. Mohammedi would examine my bike, camera and phone asking how much each cost. When I told him his eyes would widen and he would shake his head. As we continued I started to realise that I am travelling through a poor part of a poor country with what must be an obscene display of wealth. Back at home I complain about my salary and I always want to buy the next bigger and better product in the same way as everyone else but I have trouble justifying that when faced with the generosity of someone who could only dream of getting my monthly wages. I suspect that as we exchanged the details of our lives there was a part of each of us that envied the other.

Obviously I didn't get a registration slip for that night. But I don't care. I would have quite happily bribed my way past the border guards for the time I spent with that family.


Back on the road every time I stopped I would be surrounded by people. For some reason they are all fascinated by my helmet. Actually, this is Uzbekistan. They have probably never seen a helmet before.

And so to Tajikistan.

The exit wasn't as painful as I was expecting. They weren't at all bothered about how much money I was carrying or whether I had registration slips. But they did want to go through all of the pictures I have taken. That took quite a while.

I'm now sat in Dushanbe waiting for information. A few days ago there was heavy fighting in a town which I am meant to be in right now. At the moment it is very uncertain how I will be able to continue.