Woke to a strange empty house, no-one up, and no benzine in sight ....
It had not
materialised despite the cafe owners assurance, so eventually the youngsters started to surface, and we finally got a coffee
served by the owners daughter... evidently Papa was still asleep after a heavy night.
 |
| Butter wouldn't melt .... yeah, right ! |
So we started to evaluate our options (basically none).... as I had the
most fuel, the plan was I would ride around and try to find some,
leaving Jeremy at the cafe. But, just before I left, I had one more go at the daughter... “wake Papa, where benzine” I said. She went into Papa's room, to which I was expecting a hung-over Uzbekei to then appear from, but instead simply walked out with 10 litres.
Yes, I know … why
didn't he leave it out, why didn't we get it the night before, why,
why... I simply don't know. So, problem resolved, we settle our bill
after an argument over the exchange rate with the daughter, and head
out for the 60 miles to Nukus, where more fuel and a money exchange
wait … hopefully !
 |
| Barren landscapes |
Arriving at high noon
and 38 degrees C, we ride from Bank to Bank, go through the body
search each time, passport check, just to join a queue to be told
“Sorry not here, try another bank”. Back into the heat to walk
or ride to another bank. It's hard to explain the feeling when you
think, if I can't get money, I can't get fuel, or food. I can't go
back, or on. Nobody takes credit cards... its a strange one.
But
this is when the unexpected happens ….
I stopped to ask for
directions to the fifth bank I'm going to try and this well dressed chap starts to
tell me, when he asks why ? “Exchange money” I say. His English
is reasonable, and turns out he works for the Uzbekistan Finance Ministry. He
explains the banks have been stopped from changing foreign currency,
BUT he needs US Dollars, and we need their Soon (money).
So his brother turns up
in a car, we follow to meet another man … I get in the back of the
car, and the deal is done. It's a better rate that the banks, that's
all I know. But the physical size of the stack of notes is daunting
….
 |
| Just over £100 |
I decline to count
them... and he becomes my best friend. Now I'm on a roll, so I ask him
for help with Benzine … Yup, follow him to another brother, and we
fuel up from bottles in some side street.
Now I have three good
friends... but it doesn't stop there. Salamat (first name terms
now), invites us to his house where his wife has prepared a meal. We
follow, and the hospitality was incredible. It was so nice to see
how they live, and after the crap that morning, sometimes you just
gotta have faith that something will work out eventually.
 |
| Salamat, his wife,, father, and the brothers. |
After the statutory
photo session and exchanging of e-mails, we head out for the 4 hours
to Khiva, and a rest day. Leaving town, I get caught in a speed
trap... this time, we had a plan, inspired by a trailer for a movie
we saw a few nights earlier …. “Dumb, and Dumber”. It
worked, smiles, blank expressions, and laughter …. it got us out of
having to give them a “souvenir” as they describe it.
The road to Khiva was
tolerable, good in places, poor in others … but always straight. I
suppose when you build a road in the desert, you don't have to go
around anything … so build it straight. Can you imagine driving
200 miles without having to use the brakes once... Hmmm , some of my
old biker mates probably can !
And at Khiva, a nice
hotel, with a good bog and shower … all I needed …. desperately !
It's an old walled city on the Silk Road, and really impressive. We go and eat there in the evening, and here is a small selection of photos (click on any photo to enlarge)....
