Ashgabat was one of my last stops in Central Asia. From there, it was a long trek west to the Caspian Sea and to Azerbaijan. Thierry and I parted ways with Michael in Ashgabat; he was moving on to Iran and we were heading to the Caspian shore.
The drive from capital to coast is grueling: over 450 miles in scorching desert heat, along very bumpy, unsealed roads, with (in this case, at least) a pretty sore stomach. Not that the destination is great either; the seaport of Turkmenbashi is an overpriced and boring place full of soldiers, sailors, working women, and cargo people waiting to send or receive shipments coming from Azerbaijan.
I've noticed a trend in the countries I've visited in Central Asia: they've gotten progressively harder to travel in. For instance: Kazakhstan had incredible infrastructure, Kyrgyzstan was accessible and easy, Tajikstan was bureaucratically painfully, Uzbekistan was a repressive police state with decaying telecommunications, and Turkmenistan was a logistical nightmare. The border crossings, too, have gotten harder each time.
So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that the crossing from Turkmenistan to Azerbaijan across the Caspian was the most difficult part of the trip yet.
The crossing is hard for a few reasons. First, it's never really clear when the ferries will come in. The boats are primarily Azeri cargo freighters, and their main concern is goods coming from Asia, not passengers. Because Turkmenistan chargies heavy port fees for every hour they spend in harbor, the Azeri ships don't dock unless all the cargo has arrived from the east. If there are delays on the roads or train lines, the ferries might not dock for days. When we arrived to Turkmenbashi, there were six boats on the horizon waiting for the signal.
Unfortunately, there are often many people waiting at the dock for a few seats on the boat. Those that can't afford a hotel wait, sometimes for days, in the sweltering heat of the departure lounge with its gross bathroom. When the boats finally show up, those waiting will do anything to get onto the boat before it leaves. All this plays nicely into the hands of the dock officials, who impose extortionate bribes on anyone who wants to board.
We spent the better part of two days waiting for the right boat to come in. Our guide had placed a couple of calls to Azeri sailors who were supposed to tell us when to head to the dock.
The call came early in the morning and we rushed to the docks, paid the relevant fees and got in line with the others trying to get on board. This part is nerve-wracking, since the Turkmen officials can refuse your exit stamp, confiscate money, or otherwise make the ferry crossing not work. But we got through it, got neatly ripped off for our cabin on the ship (is this stopping in Cozumel or something?), and made it safely on board. We left a little after that.
As the boat pulled away from Turkmenbashi, I looked back at the shoreline and felt surprisingly triumphant. Four grueling days were over and had almost completed one of the trickiest border crossings in the region. On another level, I was leaving Central Asia, with its incredible sights and troublesome logistics, behind -- and sailing to a new region entirely.
The boat wasn't luxurious, but I figured that, if I just paid top dollar, I can at least pretend like my cabin is a good one. I mean, If it's good enough for the Azeri Navy, it's good enough for me. And here we were:
Maybe thanks to this attitude, I slept pretty well, and woke up to a view of Baku harbor at sunrise. We'd made it across!
Next up: a post-mortem on Central Asia; adventures in Azerbaijan
No comments:
Post a Comment