Filed under: Turkmenistan
The good news first – I have arrived safely back in Zurich! Having spent a couple of weeks in a totally different world, the last two days of which in a completely surreal town called Ashgabat, it is tough getting used to the good old routine. Zurich and Ashgabat are complete antipodes…but one thing after the other.
Ben and I made our way into Turkmenistan from Bukhara only four days ago. Just like the crossing from Kazahkstan into Uzbekistan, we encountered a very different country with very distinct people. From the border, we went straight to Mary, a town in Eastern Turkmenistan. The heat was quite a burden at first, especially since we had gotten up very early in order to meet our driver at the border on time.
Mary is the administrational center of that part of Turkmenistan. Except for a bunch of old Soviet appartment blocks and large roads, there is little of interest. However, we found a nice little bar in the center of town, where we had a few beers to chill out in the evening. A very friendly waitress and the relaxed atmosphere kept us ordering one beer after the next…
The next morning, we again got up before sunrise in order to visit the ancient ruins of Gonur. A Russian scientist discovered this site in the 1970s. It is believed to harbor the remains of the fifth ancient civilization that dates back a few thousand years. After well over two hours of a bumpy ride through the desert in a 4×4, we arrived at the site and took a tour led by a knowledgable local guide. The ruins actually consist of mud brick and are thus subject to constant erosion. Littered across the site were clay mugs and bones, which are left over from holy ceremonies.
Leaving the ancient town of Merv as a destination for another trip, we left for Ashgabat in the afternoon. The roughly 400 kilometers of desert road took us a good four and a half hours. At numerous checkpoints, friendly guards noted down our details in large textbooks. Police were friendly and often eager to leaf through our foreign passports. Surprisingly, most of the area to both sides of the road was actually green. The Karakum canal, a massive 1100 km ditch, is the reason for this phenomenon, allowing the people to grow cotton, vegetables and, above all, watermelons.
Ashagabat turned out as weird as expected – huge, empty and full of monuments and new buildings. To me, it resembled Las Vegas, although without people. Large parks, numerous water fountains and, of course, tons of
portraits and statues of Turkmenbashi, the local dictator. Ben and I were often the only admirers of these bizarre sites. Locals were only to be seen watering the many trees or as part of wedding parties taking pictures in front of the most well-known monuments.
We wandered around town all of Saturday. The highlight was certainly our visit of the “Arch of Neutrality”, on the top of which sits the golden statue of Turkmenbashi, which revolves with the sunlight (see picture). In the afternoon, we took the opportunity and jumped into the refreshing pool of our hotel. We actually stayed in one of the state-owned places a little outside of town, which again resembled Las Vegas. A strip of theme hotels, all supposedly designed and inaugurated by Turkmenbashi, sits on the edge of town, just across from the President’s state-of-the-art cardiological center (Turkmenbashi has had a bypass surgery a while back).
Ben left very early on Sunday to catch his plane to the town of Turkmenbashi at the Caspain Sea, from where he was supposed to take the ferry to Baku. Myself, I checked out the city bazaar in the morning, which is apparently one of the biggest in Central Asia. However, I was disappointed, as pretty much all of the items on sale were car parts, clothes, fruit, etc. I didn’t find a lot of very distinct things, but maybe I didn’t look hard enough…
Anyhow, the time had come to leave this surreal place. Luckily, I wasn’t all on my own. Together with a stranded Italian girl, whose travel agency had forgotten to get the appropriate visa for onward travel to Iran, I made my way to Turkmenbashi airport. After a $25 exit fee and a couple of beers, we stepped on LH 613 to Frankfurt. Ironically, the almost-empty plane stopped in Baku, but I didn’t see Ben there, who was presumably still on a rusty ferry in the middle of the Caspian Sea.
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