THE WORLD’S STRANGEST COUNTRY

I first learned of the Tolkuchka Bazaar about five years ago. I think it was from some photos I saw, possibly in one of those magazines that you find on an airplane in “the seat pocket in front of you”. It was reputed to be the largest and most exotic market in Central Asia. The photos were certainly compelling, but having already been to the incredible Sunday Market at Kashgar in China’s Xinjiang Province, I knew that I would have to decide on this for myself.

So, I immediately started making plans to travel to Turkmenistan, with the ultimate goal of taking in the Tolkuchka Bazaar. The problem was…how to get there. There were several possible approaches. Lufthansa flew in from Frankfurt, and Turkish Airlines did the run from Istanbul. Of course, there was always Aeroflot from Moscow, but I eliminated this option out of hand, having had previous experience with that airline.

It was also possible to enter Turkmenistan overland from Uzbekistan, but this appeared to be technically difficult. As if accessing the country did not present enough problems, obtaining a visa had a lot in common with pulling teeth. Actually, not many visas were granted in the first place, and no source I could find seemed to understand the “visa rules”. Applications were rejected for random, inconsistent reasons and often for no reason at all. Sometimes the prospective traveler was not advised about his visa status until the last minute, often after he had made plans that could not be changed or canceled.

I decided to take a look at the overland approach from Uzbekistan. I had visited Uzbekistan in 1985 and had always intended to return. I had also been planning a trip to the Baltic States and I noticed that there was a weekly non-stop flight from Riga, Latvia to Tashkent, Uzbekistan on Air Baltic. Tashkent is the capital of Uzbekistan and the largest city in Central Asia. It is also a major center for sex trafficking and has often been referred to as one very large brothel. I had contacted a travel agent in Tashkent, and had told him about my potential plans. He assured me that not only could he provide me with a car and driver to transport me around Uzbekistan, but that he would work with the Turkmenistan Embassy in Tashkent to make sure that my visa application was approved.

In September of 2012, we arrived in Tallin, Estonia off a Lufthansa flight from Frankfurt. We spent some time in beautiful Tallin and then boarded a Russian ferry bound for St. Petersburg, Helsinki, and Stockholm before returning to Tallin.

After returning to Tallin, we flew to Vilnius, Lithuania and then took a bus to Riga. After a few days in Riga, we boarded the 5 hour flight to Tashkent. We arrived late at night at Tashkent Airport, an airport that has to be the most chaotic in the world. And that’s really saying something in view of the fact that I have passed through Dakar, Lagos, Nairobi, Cairo, New Delhi and a lot of other scum hole airports that I do my best to forget about.

After several near fist fights, we were finally able to exit the airport at about 2 AM. Our driver was waiting for us outside of arrivals. He was a Russian man, not an Uzbek. He transported us to a huge, Soviet style downtown hotel which appeared to be completely empty except for us. After  a couple of hours of sleep, we set out in the morning for Samarkand, a few hours away. As mentioned, I had previously been to Uzbekistan and have to admit that the Registan in “fabled” Samarkand is one of the most impressive sights I have ever seen. When one conjures up Central Asia, one conjures up the Registan.

We then traveled to Bukhara, probably the most interesting city in Central Asia, and then on to Khiva. The drive to Khiva was actually more than I had bargained for. It was a long, long drive along a miserable road. And there was very little to see on the way. The high point of the trip was crossing the Amu Darya River, a river that I never thought I would have a chance to see.

After a couple of days in Khiva, we were driven to the Turkenistan border. Our visas, by the way, had indeed been approved. We cleared Uzbek customs and were then required to cross several hundred yards of “no man’s land” on foot. Turkmenistan customs went much easier than anticipated, and we were met on the other side by our government appointed guide – a requirement for traveling in Turkmenistan.

Our flight to Ashgabat, the capital of Turkmenistan, did not leave until that evening, so we had some time to kill. We were first driven to Kunya Urgench a completely underwhelming series of ruins about an hour from the border. We then went into the main city in the area – Dashoguz. I asked the guide if we could visit the market and he complied. The people in the market acted as though they were being visited by celebrities. I doubt that they have many foreign visitors.

In any case, the people were friendly, and the market was mildly diverting. We were then taken to a hotel for an early dinner. There would be no meal on Turkmenistan Airlines, the lowest rated airline in the world (Google it). Turkmenistan Airlines assigns seats on the basis of check in order and of course, no choice of seat is allowed. I was assigned Seat 12 and my wife, Seat 13. Seat 12 was at the window on the right side of the plane. Seat 13 was at the window on the left side of the plane – one row back. And we bitch about United!

The hour-long flight itself was uneventful. It was carried out on a Boeing 717. 7-ONE-7…? I thought that Boeing had decided to skip the teens. I guess that Turkmenistan just insists on being different.

Ashgabat lies at the edge of the Karakum Desert just across the border from Iran. Our driver in Ashgabat turned out to be a somewhat unpleasant, young Turkmen man (Turkmen? Turkman?) who couldn’t stop chattering about how rich his country was. I was in a big hurry to get rid of him. I was well aware that Turkmenistan has the fourth largest natural gas reserves in the world. But, I wasn’t quite prepared for Ashgabat – a city that Lonely Planet has described as a combination of Las Vegas and Pyongyang. White marble fountains, marble statues and marble facades were everywhere. I had never seen so much white marble – not even in a Four Seasons bathroom. The streets were wide, straight and clean – and completely empty. And there was a cluster of golden domes in the distance. I think that Dubai is the only city in the world that may be more over the top.

We ended up at the Grand Turkmen Hotel – a Soviet style downtown hotel. I would estimate that the hotel had at least a couple hundred rooms. We went up to the front desk and attempted to check in. The people at the front desk reminded me of hotel staff that I had dealt with in Eastern Europe. They had our reservation, but insisted that we first give them two photos of each of us. I didn’t happen to have any mug shots handy, and I think that they were actually prepared to turn us away – to where, I have no idea?

As usual, my wife stepped to the front and started to put up a colossal stink. The wimpy man (Turkmen? Turkman?) behind the desk finally decided that it would be in his best interest to back down. He offered to consult with the police in the morning and proceeded to check us in. The first room we were given was tight, stuffy and contained one double bed – hardly big enough for two large Americans. My wife, of course, would have none of this. (Incidentally, I am quite sure that we were the only guests staying in this particular hotel on this particular night – a hotel with at least 200 rooms). We were finally upgraded to a slightly bigger room, but it was air conditioned, had two beds, and actually had a nice view of the downtown area – the domes of the government buildings and the Grand Mosque in the distance. We drifted off to sleep after a very long day.

We met our guide the following morning – a frumpy, middle-aged woman who spoke good English. There was no doubt that the many years she had spent in Ashgabat had left her enveloped by an unmistakable aura of paranoia which, I suppose, is almost universal among people in this most unusual of countries. But, be that as it may, we set out on our morning tour of the city. We traveled first to that most famous of Ashgabat monuments – the  Arch of Neutrality.

The arch is located slightly out of the city center. The top of the arch supports a gold-plated statue of Saparmurat Atayevich Niyazov – the eccentric, narcissistic egomaniac who ruled the country with an iron fist from independence in 1991 until his death in 2006. He preferred to be called Turkmenbashi – “Leader of the Turkmen” – and while he was alive, the statue rotated continuously so that it was always facing the sun. He had established a cult of personality and was responsible for such accomplishments as scattering gold statues of himself throughout the city and naming the months of the year after members of his family. He also put Turkmenistan firmly on the map as the third most repressive country in the world – ranking just behind Eritrea and North Korea.

Our next stop was the Independence Monument. The shape of the monument is supposed to resemble a Turkmen yurt with a minaret-like tower rising from its top. A golden statue of Niyazov stands proudly in front of the dome surrounded by 27 statues of Turkmen heroes.

I’ve never been much for monuments and, since these were so over the top, they provided me with even less stimulation than usual. We had basically used up the morning, and I asked the guide to take us back to the hotel. The road back to the hotel was lined with block after block of high-rise white marble apartment buildings – all of them apparently vacant. Most of Ashgabat’s population lived in old, Soviet era apartment blocks which lacked many basic amenities – including white marble.

There was one strip of highway that was lined with government ministries. All of these were, of course, constructed of white marble. The Health Ministry was shaped like a syringe, the Education Ministry like a book, the Gas Ministry like a flame – you get the idea. All of these buildings were completely and totally empty. As we got closer to the center, I asked the guide if I might get out for a few minutes to have a look around. She looked at me with a suspicious grin and told me that it was forbidden. The only people I saw in the downtown area were policemen and street sweepers. The primary job of the many policemen on site was to nab tourists attempting to take photos and to confiscate their cameras. The streets were kept absolutely pristine. It was reportedly forbidden to drive a dusty automobile into the city. The driver first had to stop at a gas station on the edge of town for a car wash.

I was planning to visit the “Russian Market” in the afternoon. Since the market was directly across the street from our hotel, the guide “allowed us” to go on our own. It was a large, indoor market and looked moderately interesting at first. I turned my camera on a pile of melons and was immediately scolded by a pickle vendor – “no photos!!!”. I had to assume that fruit had some sort of strategic importance in Turkmenistan and that fruit photography was in the same category as government building photography. I put away the camera and we proceeded to scope out the market. In addition to the usual fruit, vegetables and meat, there was a vast array of Russian caviar and vodka – unusual for a Muslim country. We soon walked out the exit and checked off another bizarre Turkmenistan experience.

The Tolkuchka Bazaar was on the menu for the following day – a Sunday. After all, this was our main reason for visiting the country. Unbeknownst to me, the entire outdoor extravaganza had recently been moved into a purpose-built market hall – a change that was bound to negatively impact its appeal. These people obviously don’t know when they have a good thing. The carpet and camel sections remained outdoors and these proved to be moderately interesting. But to compare this market to the Great Sunday Market at Kashgar was nothing short of laughable. In the end, while definitely a letdown, I wouldn’t write it off as a total waste of time. A few photos:

We had a little trouble at the airport. I’m convinced that the men checking our passports were all progeny of first-cousin marriages. They all kept scratching their heads and passing our documents back and forth among one another. Perhaps they had never seen a US passport. Joan was terrified that they were going to make us stay. But I was fully confident that we would get out in the end. These people were all too xenophobic to want to keep us around for long. After about an hour of this passport nonsense, and another two hours of waiting in the departure lounge, we were thankfully on our way to Istanbul.

Did I enjoy our short sojourn in Turkmenistan? I’m not really sure about this – although I did like the fuzzy hats. But I’m happy we went because it made me realize how lucky we are to live in the United States. And, it also demonstrated to me in the starkest manner imaginable, that money is not everything.

 

Tags: ashgabat, bazaar, bukhara, camel, central asia, estonia, kashgar, latvia, lithuania, market, minaret, mosque, niyazov, registan, riga, samarkand, st. petersburg, tallin, tashkent, tolkuchka, tolkuchka bazaar, turkmenistan, uzbekistan, vilnius