Never a dull moment in Central Asia

Today I woke up in Tashkent, Uzbekistan knowing that whatever happened today, I just had to get back to Afghanistan. The plan was relatively simple…catch a taxi to the airport, fly to a city in the south of the country and cross the border. No problem. Right?

So, after a light breakfast with a dear friend of mine, we got in a taxi and began to head to the airport. About 5 minutes down the road, he ran out of gas. Okay, so he helps us get another taxi and we communicate (between Russian, English and a LOT of sign lanuage) that we’ll split the fare between the two drivers. We leave the guy on the side of the road to look for gas.

We then pull up to the airport which looked like a bus station… sure enough it was. But being cool-headed we just asked around and finally enough people pointed us to the airport BEHIND the bus station. So we go in and no one is at the ticket counter. We ask and the lady nods and points but then no one shows up. So we sit. About 20 minutes later, someone shows up at the desk and checks in our luggage. Whew…bags are off and we are ready to fly.

But the day continues to get more interesting. A guy comes over and sits RIGHT next to me. He goes through the languages….do you speak Russian? me: “Niet” Do you speak Uzbek? Me: “I know only a little Uzbek.” Do you speak Tajik? Are you Afghan? Me: “yes, I know Tajik.” (It’s the same langauge family as the language of Afghanistan). So between Uzbek, Russian, Tajik and English I get the gist that he wants me to take something down to the city that we were flying and into Afghanistan. Now, I’ve been in enough airports to know how harsh the warning is about taking things from strange people. And I’m just not that stupid. So, after I say no he starts laying on the charm…. “You know, you are very beautiful.” He inches closer (which the only thing between me and him is my purse and I’m not moving it for anything!). He then shows me what he has in his bag….oh, just your average, ordinary, everyday drugs.

Awesome. I just got asked to smuggle drugs INTO Afghanistan.

The man then received a FIRM no, and we escaped his creepy clutches by going through the security check point while he was on the phone. Although, we did notice that he got someone else on the flight to agree to take his plastic bag o’ goods. We get on the flight, wait a few hours for the plane because they were waiting for all the passengers to show up and fly a nauseau-inducing flight down near the border.

We catch a taxi with a seikh from India and start the journey across the border. This has got to be one of the most laborious borders to cross as far as the time it takes and all the things you have to do just to get across. There are 4 stops along this route that is maye 2-3 kilometers long. You give your passport to one guy who writes all the information in a book (they do have computers here but they are quite attached to still writing things in books). Then you go the the health checkpoint that has a few theremometers and just tell them “no I’m not sick” and they write your name in another book. Then you go through the actual customs check where they write your name in another book and check every inch of your baggage and belongings and count each bill of money (from all 4 different countries that I had with me). Then you get your passport stamped….and they write your name in another book. The the only thing left is you have to walk across bridge on the Amo Dariyo river that separates the two countries. It was built by the Russians and ironically called the “Friendship bridge” that they built as they invaded Afghanistan.

We donned our Afghan clothing and entered back into the country that feels like coming home every time I come through it’s borders. Crazy. Just another day in Central Asia.