Tashkent!

We had no plan to visit Tashkent until a conversation with our delightful fixers, Aziza and husband Anwar, gave us a thought. I explained that we needed somewhere in Osh (in Kyrgyzstan, for those who didn’t pay attention to their Geography/History/Politics teacher) to securely house the cars for a week, as we have every intention of utilising the planned Flex Time for a quick dash home and to say hello to old and new family members. 

“Tashkent!” Anwar exclaimed. “We have warehouse in Tashkent. The best” We have since come to learn that everything uttered by Anwar is enthusiastically positive about absolutely everything to do with Uzbekistan, sort of Trumpian in its delivery. 

Minds whirred. Schedules, long poured over, were brought to our short term memory. Was it possible? Well, if we did this, which caused that and added the other here, then maybe the result would be…..Ureka! A new plan was quickly formulated (how else can a plan be brought to life, if not formulated?) Inevitably, there were casualties but I’m afraid to state that they were slain on the alter of desirability for everyone else. Poor Didier; hung around in Ashgabat waiting for us to clear ferry/border fiascos, losing several days of rallying and young Nick Nick, who arrived in Baku, then suffered grievously as we struggled with fate and state, and both of them now facing an earlier departure, from the adventure, than they thought. 

So, Tashkent! it was to become. Not only did Anwar secure us secure storage in a customs inspection warehouse (surely some irony there) but the flights are more frequent and direct, as opposed to Osh. I write this from the plane operated by Uzbek Airlines which is perfectly new, staffed by charming stewards, with only one comment about the screen in front of me, which does not work but it’s ok because the film selection is dire. 

We return in one week for a slightly adjusted exploration of Kyrgyzstan. 

Before I go off air, let me bring you up to date with other news. Having successfully replaced all four tyres on three cars (not, admittedly, without a little drama - maybe a story to tell another day) we drove to Tashkent! 

No one wants to be accused of being negative on this jaunt. Gary, who is Gloomy*, is a moniker we try to avoid. But, how can I put this? The roads, in Uzbekistan, have been, um, not as dramatic as the imagination conveyed to us when thinking about this whole escapade. There are not many roads here and apparently Uzbeks all use the same road as us. Two consequences flow (what else would they do?) from this. The lorry lane is a helter shelter of ruts, holes, bumps and general “ooophs!” so that whenever we can, we slip into the fast lane, where it is a little better, and play Russian Roulette with speeding cars coming up behind. The other? It’s as busy as the A1 on a Friday night. 

*Apologies to one of this blog’s readers, who is called Gary and is anything but Gloomy. 

The big story however must be our photoshoot in front of Registon Ansembli, the marvellous 15th century square famed for its three monumental madrasahs—Ulugh Beg, Sher-Dor,and Tillya-Kori

Again, our fixers fixed it for us. An arrangement was made with the police to allow us to drive into a chained off area in front of the ancient buildings. We had to be quick to get the shot though. Tourists of every hue swarmed around us, getting in the way of the cameraman. Did the late Princess of Wales suffer this indignity in front of the Taj Mahal?

Anyway, see what you make of it. For those who knew him, we think you’d agree Philip Young might have given us a nod (nothing more) from Rally Heaven.