Tashkent, Bishkeck, Almaty, Yerevan, Tbilisi, Baku , Dushanbe, Ashgbat. These are all capital cities, yet not exactly places that ring with the “ Uncle, Bobs, Bar ” in Kuta recognition factor. Bit of a pity actually because they’re great places. A bit off the track, nice people, safe, cheap, sometimes even relatively clean. Any how, I digress, we are getting the band back together. Map boy, the butcher, fashionista, Happy traveller , and the new boy David. So new he doesn’t even have a fancy nickname. I’ll work on one for the end of the story. A month of riding a bike around some place I know sweet fa about. It will be fun they said.  TK 366, Istanbul to Tashkent, let the fun begin.

       Last time I tried to get here, l ended up getting deported from Kazakhstan, a long story, you’ll a find it here some where if you want. This time, no probs, Tashkent airport, stamp in the passport, buy a sim, little man waiting for me with a sign at the exit. Not much English but his Russian is fine. A little thing that you don’t know about me is that I am 100% fluent in Russian. Sorry typo should read 1%.  У тебя ест кошка? Мне нужно купить большой красный карандаш. Где ближайшее колесо обозрения? я в этом дерьмо.  By the time we have sorted that out, we are at the hotel. Tashkent is a large Soviet style town that was rebuilt in the 60’s after being wiped out in an earthquake.  Open spaces with lots of parks, a subway, plenty of monuments to obscure poets, cake shops, and of course the obligatory stray cats. Bit of a tour, Hotel Uzbekistan, for the best in 60’s Soviet style, then a great dinner at a hotspot picked out by the Traveler.  Followed lastly by Magic City. The commies loved their fun parks, every city has one.  Ride the coaster, smash the dogems, chuck some balls, throw some hoops, If you’re lucky you can win the big “ медведь ” to give to the girly. Twenty bucks to relive your childhood. I would have liked to spend some more time here but life is calling.                    

                     The plan is to ride/drive around the joint. Mapboy wants to ride his 300km a day, the fashionista needs twelve coffee shops a day, and the traveller doesn’t eat at any where below two Michelin stars. I did look at the itinerary this time, and my input was more rest days. We have a van, and our driver, Mr Garret, not his name but it sort of sounded Peter Garret from the oils ish, so we stuck with it. So riding Uzbekistan, a few hints. The place is huge, a lot of it is desert, some of the roads are terrible. Food is cheap, there are melon stands everywhere, the people are friendly, and the drivers  are courteous. Mapboy discovers if you eat a whole melon it only stays in your body for an average of 17 minutes. We go with the flow, if the roads are bad we drive, good we ride.  We see lots of girls hitch hiking by themselves, people go to the loo and leave their phones on the table, taxi drivers try to give you the two dollar tip on a three dollar fare back. We stay in home stays, yurts and fancy hotels.The cities are amazing, full of beautiful monuments, rebuilt after Gengis Kan smashed them all, the slaughtered all the inhabitants in the 12th century. The boy sure knew how to party. For a good Muslem nation there are no wowsers here, there is an Alco Shop on every corner. A month later, we’re done. I head to Istanbul, Fashionista to Japan, Mapboy and Maria to the English rain. David the quiet international man of mystery is ducking off to Iran just in time for the Israeli bombing campaign. We will christen him “The Spy”.

Till the next. 007.