Breakfast at the Lux, was passable, and then we asked the "benzine question" to our hosts .... the lady of the house runs out, and returns with big fat hubby, who speaks some English. He insists that he shows us the way to the only station in town with fuel, and motions to meet him outside the front.
We were parked in the rear courtyard, and the entry/exit procedure involved navigating a partially open set of hinged steel gates, with wooden tables stacked behind. Entry was easy ... if you clipped a door, it opened a bit more ..... exiting, well, it was like lock gates on a canal. I guess in the haste, poor Jeremy miscalculated the width of the opening and clipped one with a pannier, which then closed the gap smaller, pushing him into the tables, and toppling the bike to 45 degrees.
Big Boris and me pulled the bike bike upright, and Jeremy took another shot, this time giving the gate a wider berth .... only to take the stack of tables out ! If he had not have hurt his wrist, it would have been comical.
Now my turn .... I simply moved the tables !
So onto the petrol station, and Boris did come to shake our hands, gave us a complimentary bottle of water, and hinted a "good review" would be nice. I mentioned the son, and his expression conveyed that they must have been having loads of issues with him, not just his customer skills.
The road to Tashkent, the Capitol city, was mostly dual-carriageway, so on we blatted, ever mindful of the mercenary police with their possibly calibrated speed cameras, and definitely un-calibrated eyes.
Every 20-30 miles, you go through these TKZ stations... they pull you over at random for document checks. We are the only two motorcyclists in Uzbekistan, so we look strange, and get pulled at most.... hardly random.
Stopped at a roadside restaurant for a late lunch, and the water feature outside was reminiscent of Thai restaurants. There was no menu, so we had to order kebabs as its all we know. Two came, with a salad, and some bread. Scoffed the lot, about to leave, then the whole course was repeated ... I don't know why this happened, but we figured we had room in our bellys, so scoffed that too.
Into Tashkent, was like entering London traffic for the first time ... mayhem. But the GPS did its stuff, and took us right to the hotel door. Strange place .... it was situated in a residential street, but behind massive steel doors.
We motioned that we would like to keep the bikes in the courtyard inside, but clearly these doors didn't open.... we caalculated that if we took our panniers off, then the bikes would fit through the smaller opening. They did.
The rooms were spacious and I had a very nice suite .... we were beginning to think the US$40 was worth it, when I clocked the pool I was looking forward to taking a dip in ..... hmm, was just missing the tadpoles. OK, so instead, will spend some time on the blog.... "
may I have the Wifi password please" .... "
No wifi, its public holiday", was the reply.
Now even the most technically challenged amongst you, probably realise that the internet does not shut down for public holidays. And I was getting angry because I don't like to pay a lot for hotels, and when I do, I expect everything to be as advertised.
What else to do, but take a walk and look for a bar/cafe with beer & wifi hopefully. I walked for miles amongst houses and tenement blocks ....and found nothing.... apart from a benzine station that was open (useful for the morning, I thought).
Came back to the hotel, and a bunch of Tajikistan men, had come to the city tonight, for "a good time". We refused to be supplied with women later, be we succumbed to the beer, cantaloupe, and neat vodka they insisted on ramming down us.
They went on the prowl about 10pm,... me & Jeremy, the ride now taking its toll, went to bed.
