September 11

From Dushanbe to Leninabad is a pleasant journey through a dramatic landscape and the road is not as bad as the previous ones. I managed to get a truck lift quite easy. Yes, mountains, hitchhiking, trucks, friendly people… this blog is getting more predictable than Dr House episodes (it’s not lupus). You know this post will end up with vodka.

On the way from Leninabad to the Kyrgyz border, I was picked by a rich man who invited me to the posh restaurant he owns, the kind of place I would never visit otherwise. After that he took me to a police checkpoint where again the officers did the job for me.

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Luxury breakfast. There were even forks!… wine and beer too

The road from the Kyrgyz border to Osh goes through a Uzbek enclave where tourist are not allowed. They are supposed to pay some extra money to a shared taxi driver to detour around. I chose not to give a fuck and start hitching the usual way instead. The truck driver who too me told me to hide in the bed at the enclave entry checkpoint. It worked, they didn’t see me. I was for about 20 min illegally in Uzbekistan and when about to leave we saw a bunch of soldiers at the road side. They stared when passing but I guess they were too surprised to react in time and stop the truck. The driver told me he was very scared when he saw them. I am not sure what would have been the consequences but the bribe required to sort things out wouldn’t have been a small one.

It was the third time I went through Osh without visiting the place. From there I got in a shared taxi to Jalalabad. No vodka on board, only beer this time. Pussies.

Nothing to see in Jalalabad but it is nice to hang out with the friendly folks. When I went to the cheapest hotel listed on the bible only single rooms were available and I was not willing to pay for one. There were 4 kind tourists (probably the only ones in town) who told me I could try to sneak in their room. The hotel staff caught me climbing to the window: “Not good, not good”. Next plan was pitching my tent at the hotel garden. They saw me again. “Not good. I know…” – “No, no problem but you tell us before” -“Thank you guys”. Next morning I went to the bazaar where a tea house owner wouldn’t let my pay for my breakfast.

This friendly babushka fed me on the way
This friendly babushka (Russian for grandma) fed me on the way

Once my stomach was full I went back to the hitching routine. Among the lifts I got in the remote unpaved road to Kazarman I got another Gaz truck (I love them!), this time sharing the back with two locals, two donkeys and a horse. In Kazarman I camped at the football pitch but this time I asked before.

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My first vehicle next morning was another Gaz and the guys invited me to have breakfast at their where they opened a vodka bottle. Nice way to start the day, I was never a coffee person.

Next lift was on a Rolls Royce. Dream on, kidding… again to the back of an old Gaz. This time I shared with 3 locals, one having a gun. Probably inspired by my energetic breakfast I thought about starting a terrorist cell. So far we count with 1 gun, 3 men, 2 fat-ass sheep, a donkey and lots of kumys (fermented mare milk). Unlike Sadam we posses chemical weapons, my socks, and unlike Bin Laden we do exist. And we made some draws to build a lethal weapon, a cheese balls launcher.

We still don’t know whether to join a big armed organization (Al Qaeda, The NATO…) or go for freelancing jobs. We would need to think about a name, our goals, what we will fight for and all that shit but in the meantime we could kill people that are clearly bad for this world: Paulo Coelho, Mourinho, reggaeton singers, surfers…

P1030743Once the vodka effects were over the idea didn’t seem that good so the cell was dissolved and  I went back to the road.

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