A follow up to my last "Countries" posting, this one will probably end up a little more involved. Unlike the last entry being written on the ferry waiting to get into Turkmenistan, this one is written largely within Turkmenistan and finished in Uzbekistan. There's likely a lot of reading being posted today as again I must wait for wifi access before I can post this.
TURKEY
I've not spent much time in Romania and Bulgaria, Turkey I planned to stay a bit longer within. Like the border into Bulgaria, the one I arrive at is close to the Black Sea coast and is the lesser used of the borders out of Bulgaria (Kirklareli).
As far as the crossing goes, the Turkish side must have taken about half an hour. Simple enough excepting my lack of border understanding... There's a passport and V5 check at an early post before I drive 100m forward and park up nearby a larger building. Walking in Im really not sure what's next so I go to a window with a policeman at it and offer my passport. There's a younger guy in civvies and they look through my passport and give it back, telling me to go the visa window, pointing right.
As I go right I pass an empty window and walk into what turns into the customs office, straight away they ask about the visa and I look blank. They motion me to the empty window and to bang on it. A man appears and takes ten euros, places a sticker in the passport and motions back to the police check. This time my passport is stamped without question.
Returning to the customs office they look at my papers, I know my insurance is invalid past Istanbul so try to tell them. They motion me outside and to the right. Thankfully there's a little plastic shed there and I spend 8 euros getting a bit of paper. No idea what I'm covered for but it can't be much, Hasan confirms this at dinner a few nights later with a surprised look and confirmation that his bike insurance costs almost as much as for his car, which is a very nice car.
Anyway, back inside and the checks for customs are completed in the office in a few moments and Im free to leave. So I put all the paperwork back in my pocket safely and drive on to the outgoing post on the exit gate. They want to see all my paperwork again so out it comes before I'm free again.
Driving seems ok to start with, after an hour or so of quiet roads I hit the motorway in to Istanbul and drive on. Those that are there are mainly sitting in the middle lane and the driving is reasonably fast at or just above the limit.
The police seem to be in a variety of cars as I drive into and past Istanbul later. I'm never stopped and there are no issues although late at night close to the Iranian border the jandarma do stop me, look disinterested and wave me on.
Getting into Istanbul I'm met with chaos. Ive been to a few countries in the past with fast and close unpredictable driving but this seems to be the worst I've seen. Very quickly however I do get used to it, the sense of speed is often created as much by nerve than reality and it's too busy to be too fast. There's a lot of movement but I'm left with at least a couple of feet around me at all times and the drivers all seem to be aware physically of where I am. Just as I get used to it however, I do see a guy on a bike in front of me get knocked off. Brilliant.
It really doesn't take long to to get used to it and Im not fazed at all before I know it. There's just a requirement to keep a steady speed and don't do anything unpredictable. Simple.
This experience sets me up well for the rest of the country and I don't think I ever got upset or angry at anyone elses driving.
Exiting the country I got a little nervous though needn't have done. The Turkish exit border was fine. A stamp from the police, a stamp from customs and a good luck wish for the journey. Maybe I was spooked with the thunder and the speedo reading 006660, it was all I could do to stop hearing the theme for the Omen in my head when I noticed that.
GEORGIA
Unlike the last two crossings which have been close to the black sea, my route through and out of Turkey took me toward the south east then north which led me again to one of the quieter borders away from main routes. This crossing at Posof / Vale took me toward Borjomi in the mountains. Borjomi is famous in Georgia for its mineralized, sparkling spring water. I remember it because the BTC (Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan) pipeline routes close by and there was a fear of any leak destroying the water supplies.
Anyway the Georgian side took maybe 20 minutes, passport and V5 check, nothing said about insurance, a quick scoot through customs paperwork where they took details of the bike and I was off. I had read somewhere that there were very very few bikes in Georgia and that their systems weren't set up to deal with them, hence there was no demand and therefore no requirement for insurance. It felt strange to be absolutely uninsured.
I leave the border post and get onto dirt roads for a few Km. There's not much traffic and I pass everything apart for a big white landcruiser with a lump on the top. I recognize this instantly as a BP vehicle from my previous time in Baku and my understanding that the BTC runs nearby. These vehicles like the ones in Azerbaijan are speed limited, possibly have a driving spy in the cab installed to determine acceleration and braking patterns to track how reckless the driver is being and are speed limited. Although notionally they are the property of the GPC (Georgia Pipeline Company) the only visible markings from the outside are a safety sticker on the window with BP marked upon it. Anyway from nowhere his thing appears and scoots past me about 20kph faster than I'm going on bumpy roads and about 12 inches to my left. I get a fright but keep going. Obviously the speed he was going was still under his limited speed so he must just have been
flooring it. I was to see a lot of these vehicles dotting around until after I was well past Borjomi.
The roads are fine, a little bumpy and pockmarked and there's concrete everywhere. Even the crash barriers are made of concrete painted white and black. Borjomi passes in a beautiful location full of concrete and I move on toward Tbilisi. All the roads, towns and cities are marked in the Georgian alphabet with Latin characters underneath so it's easy enough. In maybe 300km though there's only one sign marking the direction of Tbilisi and I have no map so am just guessing. It works out and I'm not overly concerned about speed limits, trying simply to drive as the locals do.
Everyone here drives not unlike how they do in Turkey. Relatively fast and relatively close. There aren't many police visible apart from in Tbilisi and when I do see them they are driving around in fairly new Skoda Octavias. Im still doing well as Ive not yet been stopped by police anywhere.
What I don't like about Georgian driving is that in Tbilisi they do drive slightly faster than I saw in Istanbul but although they leave largely more space between me and them, they do have a tendency to veer quickly to change direction. There were a good few occasions where someone would shoot past or across my front within a foot and very quickly. This possibly explained why a lot of cars had damage to their front ends, although what bemused me was that is was really only the lower front ends that were damaged. I couldn't understand how there were so many low level frontal incidents but that the cars were largely unmarked elsewhere.
The road north toward the border post at Kagodekhi was well signed and the roads not too busy. This, the more northerly of the crossings to Azerbaijan is again the quieter of the crossings and the road quality did get a little worse as I rode on toward the border past increasing numbers of Turkish trucks. Although it was very wet when I went for breakfast and so I put the waterproof liners back into my riding kit, it was now getting very warm and I wasn't liking it. At a petrol stop I took out the jacket liner and it made things a lot more comfortable.
I was used to animals on or at the side of the road but within half an hour of the border crossing I wasnt expecting to round a blind bend and see horses. I knew I might see a Turkish truck coming but the sight of two horses galloping straight down the middle of the road was a new one. I stopped quickly and they also got a fright, changed course and barreled around the corner, vanishing as quickly as they appeared.
Coming up toward the border the last road sign to Azerbaijan read "Azerbaijan good luck". Nice touch but what do you mean "good luck"?
The border itself was fine. Very strange because I had looked at it from google earth previously and it seemed very familiar but it was fine. The Georgian guards took a while to process my paperwork but were friendly enough and there was a very half assed look into my panniers which was the first time this had happened.
By this time I was getting very hot, I'm not sure given by their looks that they expected me to strip down to my underwear to remove my trouser linings when I tried to explain it to them but nothing was said.
I left Georgia and drove onto the bridge over a river between the countries with a friendly wish that they hoped I would return to Georgia soon.
AZERBAIJAN
The first country that I required a visa in advance for was Azerbaijan. Turkey and Georgia both currently do not require UK passport holders to get a visa before arrival. This is despite air travelers being able to arrive in Baku and get a visa there.
Once past the gate at the end of the bridge a surly looking guard came up and asked if I had a visa. Happily I thumbed to the page in my passport and off he went, only to return shortly after and talk of me only being able to come in with a transit visa, as noted in an earlier posting I ended up getting away from the border post about an hour and a half later after while even the surly guard seemed ok in the end. It was all straight forward enough, if a little bit of a drag.
The drive in was strange for me. In the five years that passed since my last appearance the towns I passed through were showing much more evidence of money, they looked less run down and lots of people waved at me, either from the roadside or within other cars. The first police car I saw was a BMW three series which was a shock and I figured that this must have been a traffic car, nope there was no distinguishment between this and any other cars I saw and there were quite a few.
Despite not being certain exactly about the speed limits, nobody else seemed to be too concerned either, driving a little faster out of towns and slower in town. The many police cars I saw seemed to be an even split between Skoda Octavias and BMWs. The police at the side of the road just looked at me, some waved at me, one guy I drove past at motorway speeds while he was in a speed trap just ignored me and another BMW I drove past just flashed his headlights at me and motioned to slow down. All this with no end of historic stories I've read elsewhere about rampant corruption.
This seemed to be in contrast with Barton Churchill from Montana, with whom I had a brief chat with at the ferry terminal (if you can call it that) in Baku. His experience of the other border crossing was long, slow, bad tempered, hot and expensive. He followed this up by getting stopped for speeding which then led to him having a demand for $200 to get his passport back. After getting it down to $50 he decided to drive a little more slowly on his way into town. He left me to walk into Baku, leaving his bike and most of his kit in the port having no idea when his infrequent service to Kazakhstan would leave and having run to the end of his three day transit visa. Hopefully that all went reasonably well.
Most of the vehicles were Azeri registered, less of a mix than I had seen in Georgia. Following my drive through Turkey I found that the Azeris were slightly better behaved and while I used to get a little nervy in taxis in Baku, driving around myself was fine. Seemed to be more sane and more space than I had seen in Istanbul.
So this leaves me to get out again. I turn up at the port the morning after I arrive in Baku. On finding where the ticket office is I manage to avoid getting on a ferry that day and then arrive again the next day.
So, from the ticket office I went to customs, back to the ticket office, back to customs, waited an hour, got some papers stamped then went and got my ticket but not before having an argument with the immigration officer because he said my paperwork was invalid for Turkmenistan. For a moment I was going to believe him and then thought no. Despite him showing me different examples of paperwork for different people from different countries on different visas I felt my paperwork was good enough, and there was precious little information there to argue about anyway. After telling me it was no good, then trying to get a colleague to tell me he then got a passenger waiting for an earlier boat to tell me in English that he would let me leave but it was my own fault if I was deported on arrival. I thought Ill take my chances.
So, back to the the ticket office. Then I was directed to another office for a piece of paper I was later told was worthless (but it cost $20!). At this point I went back to the immigration people who told me to wait until after the next boat had landed. I sat for a while and then Mr Mansour who I had spoken to earlier, not sure of what his position was but he seemed to be intent on explaining kilts and bagpipes to a colleague, sent me to immigration who eventually stamped my passport.
After this I only had to wait another hour or so before getting called to the side by a police officer who wanted to write down my details in a book. I came and went out of the 'controlled' area without worrying to go to a little shop for something to drink and then watched the ferry get loaded with a distinct list to starboard, I later find out that this sometimes happens. Ok, that's fine then, must be safe. I get on expecting the worst re bribes etc as per previous information I've read, get hit for $5 for a guy to strap down the bike with string and then get told to clamber up the side of the dock so as not to go back down the gangway and not give anyone else any money. Nice and easy.
TURKMENISTAN
The ferry left from Baku at about 6pm. On a typical 12 - 13 hour trip that means I should arrive nice and early in the morning. On waking up I look out of the window and I can see the shore in front and we aren't moving. We don't move that day. The following morning we are in the same spot and it takes til after 5pm before we are on the go again. We dock at around 7pm. I hang around till about 7:30 with the other handful of foot passengers. At about 8:00 we are on the quayside. At about 8:30 I'm inside...
A little nervy following my argument in Baku I hand the paperwork over. I've already had a brief chat with a young soldier speaking very good English about the trip and how I can't be seeing much of each country. He wishes me good luck getting in and I wonder what's next.
The soldier gets into the office with the immigration man and it turns out he can't issue me with the formal visa and that I have to wait half an hour for a guy to come from town. They are both very apologetic. True to their word, two guys and another soldier turn up half an hour later, do stuff in the office, dont speak to me and then tell me to go to the cashier, she fills in loads of paperwork which turns out is getting done in advance, doesn't ask for money yet and I go back and get my passport back. The cashier keeps trying to phone someone, turns out it's the transit guy and apologetically tells me finally that he is not here but will turn up.
So I sit and wait again, eventually getting hassled by another guy from the port for parking and ramp fees of ten dollars. I have to walk right through and out the building as if I had cleared immigration for this step. I come back in and there's a young and older guy from transit waiting.
Apologizing for the delay they set about filling in forms for me, the older guy can't speak any English but between us while left alone at one point we chat about my route, the world cup and families before the young guy gets back in and is astounded about how much ground we covered.
Next is the customs check. I'm sent to one office, this guy sends me to another office and for the third time both mine and the bikes details are entered by hand into a ledger. He fills a form out, this gets taken back to the first guy, stamped, then I take it to a third office where it's stamped again, then I'm sent back to the guy who filled the form out only for him to stamp it and I have to give it then to the guy who stamped it first. After filling the form in nobody asked me any questions on stamping it.
I try to find out what to do next and everyone just says they are finished. One of them mention leaving so I thought I'd chance my arm. I got outside, within seconds had my passport checked, just about clambered onto the bike and then had two other guys appear out of nowhere for a half assed look into the panniers. At that point I was for the off. It had taken three and a half hours, was now 11:30, cost me $210 in assorted documented fees as per some posters and I had receipts for the lot. Oh and I must have signed at least 40 times on assorted bits of paper.
It was surreal, surprisingly straight forward and easy, if a little long winded and I had made it into one of the up til recently hardest countries in the world to get into.
The next day I drove nearly 600km into Asgabat. The roads were changeable from really horrid, off road, dual carriageway, normal two lane and new motorway. There was no signage leaving Turkmenbasy for maybe 20km then a sign showing 541km, one round about 400km then a few from 50km in. There's no road markings apart from the motorway and sometimes in town and driving is relatively restrained though the lack of markings means they can drive wherever they want, even if that's the wrong side of the road.
A particular favorite seems to be to straddle the inside two lanes of a three lane road, just in case. Another favorite move I got quite weary of was down to their excitement of seeing a lone biker. The trick involved letting me pass, speeding up, sitting just out of vision from my mirrors to have a good look, drawing alongside, waving, shouting or honking their horn as the mood took them then either dropping back or racing off into the distance. It's a little unnerving because you know that they aren't watching the road and you are never quite sure when the next one will turn up.
Meanwhile, the roadside police checks are quite regular, quite why it takes five men to surround you and the bike asking how much and how fast as your passport details are marked onto a post it note I'm not sure. Never any grief but just a regular inconvenience of which I remain unconvinced of any benefit. There's an obvious two speed system for the police too, those in Ashgabat get to drive around in new Mercedes E class cars while the provinces have to deal with Peugeot 405's.
Exiting the country was a different matter to the way in and an example of how fickle the process is. The border crossing at Konye Urgench is again for me one of the lesser used posts. I get there at 9am and there's a big event on the cards. The border post is closed and I sit back as a big ceremony happens. By 11:30 I'm told by a soldier to drive round the side of the post. The ceremony was for opening the brand new border crossing and I can now use the old post.
On the far side my transit paperwork is taken, my passport checked and I then sit with a guy in the customs area. It's at this point a soldier turns up and tells me the post is closed. I don't understand and nobody seems to know what's happening. The long and the short of the next fifteen minutes is that I'm sent away for the day because the border is indeed closed. They must need time to get used to the new air conditioning or something.
Attempt number two almost ends in tears. The next day I'm back at the old border post. They must be keeping the new post for good. Its a pretty rapid trip through the Turkmeni side although one of the inspectors wants to know which city is better, Baku or Ashgabat, and then he wants to have a look through my photos, not out of xenophobic paranoia but curiosity I think by they way he and a friend take an interest. It all goes really smoothly up till the point where one of the inspectors tells me that customs is actually closed and I'll have to go back and find a hotel for the night before coming back for the new customs post. I get a bit of a sinking feeling and it's then I pull out my trump card of the visa expiring that day, suddenly it's a case of "oh Schottlandia! Our friends, we like you, wait wait, we will sort something out". I get passed to some other guy who just looks at me and says I can go if I want. Again nobody checked my panniers.
