May 12, 2014
Looking for somewhere to sleep: WHY?!!!
The next morning I awoke feeling much better and went to see a different doctor to see if I was okay to enter the country now. He took my temperature and showed it to me but didn't bother looking at it himself and then declared me fit and healthy. This was a relief, particularly as the thermometer had said 35.2 C, which meant I had severe hypothermia and probably frostbite.
The rest of the border procedure went easily too, with me being a bit of a celebrity and all. I think everyone was just happy to see I had made it through the night. I was still very tired of course, but the worst was over. I was into Uzbekistan and I could now cycle on to the city of Bukhara, less than a hundred kilometres away, and find a nice hotel to recover in. I was happy. I cycled away from the border in high spirits, and straight into the face of a hundred-mile-an-hour headwind. 'Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!!! SERIOUSLY?!!! I mean SERIOUSLY?!!! WHY?!!!'
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It was even worse than it had been in Turkmenistan. The wind was just absolutely brutal. And there was nothing but desert again, and for all I knew there would be nothing but desert for the next hundred kilometres and I was moving at four or five kilometres an hour. It was an impossible headwind and yet I simply had no choice in the matter, it was the only way, I had to make it possible somehow, and so I persevered. And after a couple of hours of nothingness a couple of young cyclists appeared from somewhere, heading my way. I made friends with them, which was a great way to meet some real genuine Uzbek people and also, more importantly, a sneaky way to hide out of the wind a little bit.
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We arrived at a village and I found a shop. There was basically nothing in it to eat, but the friendly owner did change some dollars for me into the local currency. After that I walked around the back to where some people waved at me. They were carrying leafy tree branches into some kind of big shed and invited me in to look. I walked in and saw a warehouse full of these branches. I was confused. They suggested I look more closely. When I did I saw that the branches were absolutely covered in silk worms. It was a warehouse full of silkworms. It was incredible. There must have been a million of them.
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One of the guys asked me if I was hungry and I said that I was but that I didn't like silk worms. But in fact I was starving, having reached that point after being sick when one's appetite returns. He led me to a building which appeared to be a canteen of some sort for the workers and two women offered to cook me potatoes and eggs. It was really delicious. I was very grateful for such remarkable kindness. And then they charged me 5000 som.
My only goal for the day was to find a hotel. Technically by law I had to register with a hotel every night that I was in Uzbekistan, although my desire to find one stemmed less from this and more from a desperate need to get some proper rest. Naturally my body was still feeling weak from the Desert-Dash exertions and a morning spent cycling through a wind tunnel had done little to improve things. A couple of days off in a hotel room would be just the ticket.
I was pleased then when I reached a town and my request for a hotel was met with positive responses. I was pointed with some confidence down a road towards the centre of town. It wasn't quite right. I was pointed back. I was pointed another way. Now I was on track. I was pointed down the main street. A lot of people were staring at me. A lot of people were calling out to me to talk to them. I was pointed on a bit further. Yes, just a bit further. Yes, just down there, in the centre. Then a taxi driver told me that I couldn't stay at the hotel here and that I had to go to Bukhara. I assumed he just wanted to try and convince me to get a lift to Bukhara in his cab so I ignored him. I was pointed another way. Just a bit further. I was by now very hot and very frustrated. Another man told me I had to go to Bukhara. I was pointed another way. Than a man stopped his car and waved me over. I told him I was just looking for the stupid hotel. He took out a pen and paper. 'Good,' I thought, 'He's going to draw me a map.' He started writing. B - U - K - H - "Forget it, I'll go to Bukhara!"
But I wasn't going to get to Bukhara this night. It was just too far into such a wind. I had given up on the idea of a hotel but struggled on regardless for several more hours. And then somewhat unexpectedly a big red 'Motel' sign appeared. It looked modern, it looked new. I was saved! Oh what relief! A refreshing shower to finally get the sand out of my ears, a comfortable bed, a chance to relax! A man was out the front of the motel and approached me, and I greeted him with the grateful enthusiasm of a man who has just been saved from torture. He responded and led me through a gate and opened a door into my room. It was small, smelled a little, there were shoes in the doorway and a pair of jeans hanging from a door. Someone was clearly living here. The man started tidying up for me. "Are you sure this is the motel?" He was sure. "How much is it?" I asked.
"How much do you want to pay?"
"Are you really sure this is the motel?"
He was.
"Can you register me?"
Blank look.
"Register? Registration? I need registration slip."
Blank look.
"Oh look I like the price but if you can't register me there really is no point."
Blank look.
And back to torture.
It was getting late and I still had nowhere to sleep. Putting my tent up in such a wind was practically going to be impossible. I spoke with another couple of cyclists going my way who suggested I sleep in a shipping container. To be honest it wasn't such a bad idea, except for the guard dogs around the container yard. The cyclists told me that they were going to ride to Bukhara but as they were going the same speed as me it seemed they were planning on riding all night. And by 'all night' I mean 'up until the point one or other of them got taken out by a truck' because they had no lights and had a somewhat erratic cycling style. This at times involved one of them riding in the fast lane of the dual carriageway to try and get some protection from the wind via the central reservation while the other one rode in the slow lane, causing cars to swerve between them. One could only imagine how well this would turn out in the dark. I was almost tempted to go on with them just for kicks but then I made one last desperate plea for a hotel to a man at the side of the road, and out of sympathy he took me home with him.
The man lived with his wife and two young boys in a simple home which was essentially one room that was completely unfurnished except for a TV and two huge piles of colourful rugs and blankets. Several of these were laid out into a square that we sat around to form the dinner table. Later these would be taken away and replaced by thicker blankets to turn the room into a bedroom. It was certainly a very creative use of space. It made me realise that furniture really is a waste of time and money. Unfortunately I was extremely tired and what I didn't really need was for the whole neighbourhood to come and meet me but of course that is what happened. I responded to the amazing hospitality by falling asleep at the dinner table, which is easy enough to do when it so closely resembles the bedroom. Seeing my condition the crowds left, the family ate in silence and then put me to bed, themselves sleeping in the same room and yet making almost not a sound the whole night. It was wonderful!
Today's ride: 47 km (29 miles)
Total: 19,189 km (11,916 miles)
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