DAY 23. AUGUST 24. MARY
Bureaucratistan
Up early to make our way to the Uzbekistan/Turkmenistan border about 110km away. We were told this would be a quick easy day. Alas nothing could be further from the truth. It is very rare that you don't enjoy a day on your vacation but this was one of those days.
After driving along a bumpy dirty road for 90 minutes we arrived at the border. We were now in the Karakom (Black) Desert, which takes up 80% of Turkmenistan and means the summer temperatures often go close to 50 degrees. Even though it was 9.30am it would have been in the high thirties already.
You would think that when you are leaving a country, it is a relatively quick process as they are glad to see the back of you. Not in Uzbekistan. At the first border point our leader, Claire, had to fill in paperwork for one and a half hours whilst we waited on the bus. It took this long, despite the fact there was no one else ahead of us. Every little detail about us was required to be handwritten into a book, a book that no doubt would be thrown into a drawer to gather dust.
Once this was finished we were allowed to enter customs. Here we were asked questions about what we did, what we had bought, how our digital cameras worked and so on. This took forty-five minutes. Again they wrote down details in a book. Once customs was satisfied we proceeded to passport control. Here, a man who was very technologically advanced typed our details into what appeared to be a Commodore 64. I may be mistaken however, it could have been an Apple 2E. Whatever he was using, he was not good at it, typing with just one finger and taking a lot of time. By the time we had passed this is was about 12.15.
We then carried our bags through the traditional no mans lads (aka Jurbergastan) to the Turkmenistan border control. This is where the frustration of these bureaucratic states shines through. Between 1pm and 2pm the entire border shuts down for lunch. Not some people but all people. As it was almost 12.30 they didn't believe that we would get through before 1pm so they made us wait until they got back from lunch. At 2pm. So here we were at 12.30, outside a little brick hut, waiting in temperatures now over 40 degrees. With no food or water. It would have been sensible for some to have an early lunch and some work on, but these countries don't work like that, so we just had to wait. And wait. And wait. Whilst sweating like a fat man in a sauna.
Eventually, 2pm came around and we could get the ball rolling on getting visas. This is also a guessing game. At first they told us it was be $81USD. Then after we filled in the forms they only asked for $51USD. Once we got our passports and entry card stamped they changed their mind and asked for another $10USD. Finally we proceeded to the next checkpoint where Commodore 64s were again put to use as they entered our details. At just after 3.30pm, six hours after reaching the border we were allowed in. Now I have a glimpse of how refugees feel when they get to Australia. I half expected to be thrown into a detention centre. All of this on a very quiet day- I would hate to see how slow it would be on a busy day.
Just when we thought it was over and we were on our way, a guard stopped our bus and for no apparent reason made us walk for 200 metres with the bus behind us. Satisfied at pissing off the Westerners he allowed us back on. Of course in the next thirty minutes we were stopped twice more.
Let me interrupt my rant about bureaucracy for a moment to tell you a little bit about Turkmenistan. One man dominates the country, President Niyazov also known as Turkmenbashi (head of all Turkmen). His face is on every banknote, his statue is on every corner, and there are numerous streets, towns, squares and airports named after him. He has a twelve metre high golden revolving statue of himself atop a 75m tower in Ashgabad and he has spent billions of dollars on his gold domed palace and public image.
He won the 1992 election with 99% of the votes and improved this to 99.5% in 1998. When a meteor landed in 1998 it was called Turkmenbashi and he has had a play commissioned about him. In 1999, when he dyed his hair black every portrait of him in the country had to be changed (and believe me there are a lot of portraits) sending the country into a minor chaos. In the last election he again won close to 100% of the votes despite undergoing a heart bypass just prior to the election.
As we drove along, we wouldn't go for more than 100 metres without seeing a giant billboard or poster of him. Almost every building displayed his portrait. He looked a little bit like Dean Martin, though this may have been digital enhancement. A few years ago, he wrote a book on Turkmenistan history, (or more accurately rewrote to favour himself), and now every student must study it prior to entering high school. A copy of the book appears next to him in every one of his portraits and quotes from it are often painted on buildings. Since then he has become a prolific writer and in any bookstore there is an entire section dedicated to his writing.
Turkmenistan has a huge supply of gas and oil and will be a very important played in the oil industry. Petrol here is less than two cents a litre, unbelievably cheap. Electricity, gas and water are all free and there is no rent or tax. Despite this, life is still pretty harsh. For example, as gas is free they leave their gas stoves on all the time as many cant afford matches to relight them. On our drive, everyone we passed looked quite miserable, there were no smiles or laughter as there had been in the other 'Stans.
By 5.30 we were hungry and thirsty and as we had four more hours of driving ahead of us to get to Mary, we stopped for an early dinner. This entailed changing money. I thought the currency situation in Uzbekistan was absurd, in Turkmenistan it is worse. The largest note is 1000 manat (resplendent with the presidents portrait) and is equivalent to about 30 US cents. Thus when changing over money we were getting even bigger wads than before. Changing just $10USD completely filled up your wallet and your pockets.
Choosing between the restaurant with the beaming picture of Turkmenbashi and the restaurant with the gold statue of Turkmenbashi out the front was difficult, but we went with the former. Actually I should be careful what I type- there is only two places with internet in Turkmenistan and all emails are read from there, and all hotel rooms, restaurants and offices are bugged. Over dinner we tried to develop a code, so we could talk without fear of being hauled away into the night. The restaurant was full of smoke, as for an absurd reason; smoking is banned outdoors throughout the country so people can only smoke inside. The reason is, Turkmenbashi does not like smoke. I would have thought it better to ban it inside, but little makes sense in this country. Dinner consisted of mutton fat and bones. They really do love their mutton fat in this part of the world.
After being fed and watered, we once again hit the road to Mary (pronounced Mah- Ree but it sounds better in a strong Aussie accent). I lost count of the number of times our bus was pulled over by the police or at regular passport control, but we never went more than 30km without being stopped. It had been a long day, and it was just getting drawn out.
We eventually arrived into Mary just after 11pm. We were staying in a home stay with a local family who didn't seem very excited to have us arrive. For the first time in my life I felt all, as I was longer than the bed. Still I fell asleep straight away, in fifteen hours (including one hour for dinner) we had covered just 300km and I was stuffed.
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