I woke up super early as the sun rendered all sleep impossible through the heat and brightness. I woke up feeling lucky to have spent the night in near solitude, sleeping next to something as spectacular as Darvaza. My ever present guide made breakfast and packed away my little tent.
I parted ways with the Dutch guys and wished them luck with the rest of the trip. We were both heading the same way, and would most likely bump into each other in Uzbekistan where we said we'd share a beer. However, that was the last I heard from the Dutch guys. As the Land Cruiser was heading north to Khiva, my guide received a message from the Dutch guys' guide who said their not so trusty VW van had broken down.
Turkmenistan is not the place to break down. Especially in the desert. Especially with a visa ending that very day.
We ploughed on regardless to Konye-Urgench, only stopping for toilet breaks on the way. The scenery remaining constant throughout.
Kunya-Urgench is located just south of the border of Uzbekistan and contains minarets and mausoleums from the 13th and 14th centuries. It was my first ancient Silk Road settlement - although not as spectacular as the Uzbek Silk Road, it was still inspiring and offered a chance to interact with local Turkmen.
In fact, I turned out to be a bit of a celebrity here. I don't know whether it was the above-the-knee shorts or the blonde hair, I must have posed for at least a dozen photos.
Having enjoyed my five minutes of fame, I headed back to the Land Cruiser for the final leg of the Turkmenistan journey. "Border closed". We had mis-timed the journey and had hit lunch time at the Dasoguz border - lunchtime equals no border crossing. We instead found a restaurant in the border town and I sat down to a kebab. My guide also ate, but chose to sit at a different table, very near mine. Maybe it was something I said.
We finally made it to the Uzbek border. My driver dropped me, we said our goodbyes, I exchanged my Manat to So'm. I was now on my own. Although Turkmenistan is considered a harder country to navigate, I was never alone and was treated very well. At this border my Central Asia trip felt like it was really beginning.
I walked up to the Turkmenistan border building. A large group of locals had gathered in a gaggle by the door waiting to be called in. When they saw me waiting by them, in full range of the sun, they all shouted 'tourist, tourist' and waived me to the front of the group. One even shouted at the border guard to let me in the building. In I went. I was whisked through the process and out into no man's land. Maybe Central Asia isn't as scary as people think...
At no man's land, I waited for the bus to take me to the Uzbek border. A one mile ride in a soviet era mini bus. The driver asked me where I was from and he responded with Liverpool players' names.
We stepped off the bus and into the Uzbek border control building. The building was guarded by soldiers who couldn't have been older than 18. Again, most of the soldiers spoke some English and shouted football players names at me - when in doubt, also resort to football.
I passed through the border with no hassle and no questions. I had read that the Uzbek border was notorious for harassment - for border guards reviewing every photo on your phone, searching every square inch of your belongings and declaring every medicine that was being carried. But, there was none. Just a friendly smile and a 'welcome to Uzbekistan'. Uzbekistan has recently opened up to tourists and the outside world. Visas are far easier to obtain and this border cross is now one of welcoming and happiness.
I pass through the border building and out onto the street. In life I have developed a deep-rooted distrust towards taxi drivers. One such taxi driver had been driving away from the border but double took when he was the foreigner and made a beeline for me. He already had a paying passenger but couldn't resist getting another - $10 for the 3 hour ride to Khiva. I sat up in the front, with my bag on my lap. No leg room. No air conditioning. No idea where I was going.
The Turkmen passenger spoke a bit of English, and asked me if I had a wife. When I said no, the taxi driver looked in shock. After a while it was just me and the taxi driver on the road to Khiva, sweating out in the sauna on wheels. Finally we made it to Khiva.
I was dropped at the front door of the Khiva Alibek hostel, directly outside the main gate of Khiva. I was absolutely knackered and found a comfortable spot to lie down for a while.
One fellow traveller said it was cheaper to enter Khiva after a certain time - I went to the ticket office and tried to buy a cheap tickets. She refused and said I should come back tomorrow.
Instead, I waited and watched from the vantage point of my hostel until the old town closed up for the night and the entrances were no longer guarded at around 8pm. I went for a dusk-time stroll and came across two of Khiva's famous minarets beautifully lit up.
Kalta Minor:
Islam Khodja Minaret:
At this point I called it a day and went back to the hostel for some much needed rest. Who knew sitting down in a car all day could be so exhausting.
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