Some months ago I began exploring what were the best options of when and how to visit Tajikistan.  A good option seemed set to go on the Seven Lakes tour to Tajikistan from Samarkand in Uzbekistan.  It’s a little bit complicated as you have to get a visa ahead of time, and with a tour like this, you have a driver to take you to the border on the Uzbekistan side, go through immigration on your own, and then meet your Tajikistan guide on the other side.

It’s a pretty intimidating process as you begin the walk through the gated immigration zone.  I’ve done this by air, train, ferry, and car before, but never on foot.  It throws in a whole new sense of jeopardy, and obviously, no one speaks English.  We had a long wait as it was a busy Saturday morning.  Around 30-40 Uzbekistan and Tajiks, three Russians and me.

You pass out from Uzbekistan passport control, walk across a no man’s land, and then into Tajikistan passport control.  All smooth, and happy to be through, but it took 45 minutes.  My passport must have been checked 6-7 times through the process.

I had an English-speaking guide, Alfredso, who was fantastic.  We stopped at a Buzkashi horse event that was taking place, it is so very different.  It’s a national sport in Tajikistan … what the heck is it I hear you say? Well, it’s a tough sport for men on horseback who try to gain control over a dead goat carcass. Yep, very different.

I did even get on a horse myself, for the first time in decades. I didn’t Buzkashi though!

Next was lunch…the Plov in Penjakent was delicious.  Plov is a national rice dish in this part of the world, and mostly served as a lunch time meal, We quickly departed and sped on to the Fann Mountains, which is the home to the Seven Lakes. The Lakes are great with some beautiful. views and lakes of differing blues and greens.  Lake 6 was certainly my favorite.  By the time you arrive at Lake #6 you are 2200 feet into the Fann Mountains, and snow starts to appear.

We headed back down, buying some gifts from locals.  They live a very different way of life.  I was surprised to learn they have tv, and numerous satellite dishes poke up from atop many houses you see.  We also pass by the gold mine, a place where many of the locals work.  Run by the Chinese.

The road up and back down is as rough as you might expect, worse in parts.  You live in constant nod-heading mode as you bump into the road.  Back on to tarmac as we headed back to Penjakent seemed like a gift sent from the travelling gods.

Back to the border for more stories of immigration fun and anxiety, all rolled into one.  Fortunately, my guide was going to go with me as he had to negotiate and pay for a taxi on the other side to get me back to Samarkand.  Alarm bells started ringing as I entered the first part of passport control on the Tajik side.  The screen went red, so I translated that into “not good”.  It appears that when I passed through passport security and showed my visa in the morning the immigration official didn’t stamp my passport.  I have no idea why, but they didn’t like it.

Fortunately, my guide was able to talk to them I in their local language, though I’m not sure that helped.  I was taken to an investigation room where my heart rate increased by several notches.  The only thing that was clear was that nobody could understand it.  Reluctantly they let me through, no Tajik stamp in or out. My day as a ghost in Tajikistan.

The concerns were not over though as I had to get through into Uzbekistan.  I asked my guide, “Will the Uzbeks care”.  His “I don’t know” response, didn’t fill me with much confidence.  Happily. Uzbekistan said ‘yes’ and I was back.  Phew.

Not quite done yet.  My guide had to negotiate a taxi to take me on the 45-minute drive to Samarkand.  The conversation got heated as the driver wanted a full car.  Eventually, it was agreed by my guide that I would travel with two strangers.  We set off, only to turn immediately around to get a fourth passenger   My guide said to me “Text me when you get in”.  It was clear he wasn’t fully happy about my safe passage.

The driver was a maniac.  I’m not sure there is a traffic offense that he didn’t break, but I made it back to the oasis of the Sanjor Hotel.  I can smile about it now!

Travel is about stories to be told.  It changes you in ways subtle and hard to explain.  There are so many things different in this part of the world, and so many things better in ways hard to explain.  My immigration challenges won’t change how much I enjoyed my venture into Tajikistan, the new friend I have in Alfredso, and the venture into this country was so enjoyable and fascinating. I’d like to go back, but I hope I don’t ghost my way in.