The Turkmenistan visa was the hardest one to get. Thanks to calls from the Slovenian ambassador in Iran I was reassured that at least a transit 5-day visa will be approved. The visa had a specific date and border entry and exit, so I had to plan accordingly to the dates. My plan was to cross the country in 5 days through the narrowest part. The border crossing was time-consuming because they didn’t let me out of Iran right away. Some documents for my bicycle were requested and they went through all my camera content. They didn’t find anything suspicious and after two hours of nervous sitting in the waiting room I could finally proceed. The border control in Turkmenistan was also quite thorough. My bags were scanned, fingertips taken, face photographed and I had to pay several entry fees. My passport was checked more than 10 times and I was relieved when I left the building on the border.
The sun was high when I started cycling in the desert landscape in the new country. Desperate to find a shade I stopped at the first sight of civilization. It was hot and I was sweating profoundly, resulting in uncomfortable positions on my saddle. Temperatures in the shade moved around 40 °C and I was not feeling well. The building turned out to be a police station and the kind officer offered me to stay in his acclimatized room where he brought me an energy drink. He greeted me with a surprising hug and we started a conversation that ended when I used all of my Russian words. Every couple of times the power was gone and the air conditioner switched off. The police officer asked me if I was hungry and he directed me to a restaurant nearby where I had a simple meal of soup, bread and some fresh vegetables. With renewed energy I could proceed and with few breaks, the temperatures dropped eventually. Out of nothing strong wind began to blow and it was getting stronger and stronger. I felt the first raindrops on my body and I realized that a sandstorm is coming. I had to stop and cover my mouth and face. Luckily a big Toyota stopped and the men inside waved at me. The car was huge so I could put my bicycle without taking off the panniers in the back. Young men gave me a coke and laughed as the rain started pouring down. They had asked me a lot of questions and I tried hard to answer and ask some back. They dropped me at the taxi place on the first down and the taxi brought me to Mary, where I stayed in the nice hotel.
I started quite early the next day in the cloudy weather but one hour later a brother and sister stopped their car in front of me and explained that they desperately want to host me because there aren’t many opportunities to see a tourist in their country. I was grateful for their kindness and simply had to accept the offer, so I stayed with the whole family for one day. They showed me around the historical town of Merv and some other interesting things. The most memorable moment came at dinner because I ate with other men, but there were no women around, so I asked where they are and they dryly explained to me that they eat separately. The next day I cycled all day on horrible roads without any shade. My butt developed some sorts of rashes and sitting on the saddle alone meant excruciating pain. The butt pain is until today my first association with Turkmenistan. Nevertheless, I camped on a cool night in the middle of the hilly desert with green bushes and plants. My butt was saved from the Dutch traveler the next morning. He was traveling East with an old police truck and took me to the last place in Turkmenistan before the border with Uzbekistan.
The border crossing was busy with locals trying to cross with huge bags full of goods to sell on the other side, but I wasn’t spared a thorough inspection. After taking all my medications, checking my bags, and measuring my temperature, I could finally proceed. I was irritated because I had felt that something is wrong with my stomach. It was the first time that my body let me down and I could only cycle to the first hotel after the border. I paid in dollars and got the remaining back in local currency, which meant a whole bundle of banknotes.
Luckily for my stomachache, two touristy old towns awaited me in Uzbekistan. Samarkand and Bukhara, where I spent two weeks in total in order to get rid of the stomachache. Most of the time I rested in air-conditioned hostel rooms and did sightseeing when feeling a little bit better. I celebrated my birthday without being able to keep any kind of food in my body, but I sat on the stairs in front of Registan in the city center and genuinely felt proud of my achievement. Football World Cup started as well and I could watch some games in peace.
