To get to our desired destination, the Fann Mountains, we had to first get to Penjikent. Both Penjikent and
the Fann Mountains are located in the Zerafschan Valley, bordering right to Uzbekistan, about 30 km from Samarkand.
Penjikent is a rather busy, but small city. On the day of our arrival, we took a stroll through the city, looking for a place to book our tour. However, the first place we visited was the bazar. In other parts of the world it’s simply called a market, but here, beneath the old, ortiental builiding, complete with a domed roof, the name seemed perfectly appropriate. It was bustling, full of food, spices and other domestic items and a joy to walk through. As usual in Tajikistan, we attracted a lot of curious attention.
Out on the streets again, we soon noticed something was up. There was some kind of celebration going on in front of a big, official building, involving a lot of schoolkids- I thought it might be graduation or start of school or something of the sort. There were several performances, mostly of martial arts and dancing. Personally, as these are literally the only sports I ever was interested in, was delighted. The kids showed their martial art skills with a threefold display, the showed something we thing was Taekwando taking the Center Stage, and Judo and Wrestling was shown at the sides. There were some rather strange playback performances of a young man „singing“ what must have been patriotic songs. They also showed several dance groups of different traditional dance styles. The outfits were stunning and the girls involved were clearly enjoying themselves.
While we probably enjoyed the perfomance more than the other specatators, since those were mostly the families of the kids involved. However, we were our own kind of sensation. We were the only white people in the crowd, and possibly in town, so we were very much stared at. Escpecially the children were very obvious in their curiosity. Some plucked their courage together and spoke to us, in surprisingly good English and welcomed us in Tajikistan. They also told us that the celebrations were due to Tajikistans Independence day. Mystery solved!
The adults also tried to speak to us, mostly in Russian. Since we both don’t speak Russian, these conversations proved challenging, but very pleasant because of the obvious pleasure the people had to just interact and speak with us. It has been said so much it is almost a clichee, but it’s true nevertheless: The Tajik are an incredibly friendly and hospitable people.
Regarding our search: The organization which was supposed to have an office there and assist you with booking, didn’t exist anymore. Unfortunately, our hostel didn’t have WiFi and we didn’t have a Sim-Card, so booking online was not an option.
Fred got sick on the day after arrival, which meant that we spent a lot of time in the hostel, recuperating. The next day, we left for the Fann Mountains via Shared Taxi.
For those of you not familiar with Central Asia and Tajikistan in particular, let me explain how travel works here:
We wanted to go to the Fann Mountains. The travel agency mentioned in the guidebook: Doesn’t exist anymore. Tourist information board? Exists, but it’s empty.
Online search and booking? Well, our hostel didn’t have internet. So, first you buy a SimCard (which will expire after 10 days, because you’re a foreigner. But for now and for 107 somon, you’re set.)
We did find a website, and a phonenumber where you can text via WhatsApp and book a tour (the descritption was rather unspecific, so we didn’t know if it was what we were looking for). So we text the guy. He answers immediately. Tells us to text Jamshed, he organizes the tours. We text Jamshed. He doesn’t answer.
So what now? This is what you do:
You say f*ck it and you go to the taxi stand. You ask a taxi driver if he can get you to Haft Kul in the Fan mountains. You speak English, he speaks Russian. However, you understand each other enough that you understand he says no, he won’t take you, you need a 4-wheel drive and it’s too far. Other taxi drivers arrive and join the discussion. You ask about a mashrutka (a bus) and they say no, no bus. They talk among themselves, someone calls someone else. More people arrive. Since this is happening next to the main road, you’re starting to block traffic. Some guy (a driver?) tells you he’ll take you for 1000 somon. You say no, that’s too expensive. Suddenly, two guys go „Come, Haft Kul, come, we take“ and start walking away. You lug you heavy baggage after them and follow them across the street, down the hill, though other streets until 5 minutes later, you arrive in car lot with other cars waiting. They bring you to a 4WD and point at it and voila, that’s your ride.You haggle for the price (100 was the offer, in the end we paid 80) and your baggage is loaded. So off you go, right? No! This is a shared taxi! So you wait until there are enough passengers to fill the taxi. Out of nowhere, another white person appears, he wants to join. His name is Tobias, he is perfectly nice and also a German, an incredibly experienced traveller who helps you haggle about the price. So now you’re 4 people, the car has 5 seats, one guy who brought you there also wants to come, so you’re all set, right? No! The car is far from full. In the end, the car is full with two people in the front, 4 on the back seat and 3 in the trunk. The luggage is loaded on the roof. So now we can go, right? No! Turns out, the driver has lost the keys somewhere and takes off in search of them. After 20 minutes he comes back, and finally you can go.
By the way, did I mention there was no aircon?
Despite the difficulties, we got within 2 hours after we set off out of our hostel. The drive was quick, despite a quick stop for midday prayers and a long, winding trip up a gravelly road up the mountains.
The climate here is very different from most countries I’ve been to so far. It’s very arid, but there is water everywhere. Within in the cities, there are little canals, mostly resembling gutters, usually carry water, some are still actual streams. Along these natural and manmade waterways, everything grows, and grows well. The Tajiks use this water for irrigation and temporarily redirect the streams over their pastures and gardens.
In the mountains, it makes for an interesting effect: Among the browns and reds of the dusty mountains, suddenly there is a burst of green, large trees and pastures thrive. You can see the houses dotted in between. And then, as suddenly as it started, it stops, the village ends and the mountain continues.
Haft Kul is prime trekking destination alongside a rive flowing through the mountains. You can easily hike up the river and along there are 7 lakes, which in Tajik means Haft Kul. We went up until the 4th lake, and hiked up to number 7, which was about 10 km one way. It was a very pleasant hike which took us through several villiages along the way. The lakes and scenery was stunning, and the lakes a beautiful azure colour. However, even more interesting were the people. In those villiage, life doesn’t seem to have changed much in the last few hundred years. Sure, people have cars now, and the odd smartphone, but in the end, the live almost exactly the same lifestyle as 200 years ago. They make their own bricks out of clay and use their donkeys probably more often than cars. I highly doubt many people have a television and most of their food seems to come from their animals, which are herded up and down the mountain by the kids. The women are shy and the men want to talk to you, even if you can’t understand each other. It is a humbling, special kind of experience.
Talking of humbling experiences while hiking down from the 7th lake we were called by two young girls. We were not sure what they wanted from us but we followed anyway. They seemed to be living in a stone hut, which we didn’t take pictures of for privacys sake, that was about as high as my shoulders. Lots of their possesions were on the roof. All in all they made a rather impoverished impression. The girls were very curious and despite not speaking a word of English, were very interested in us and wanted to take a few pictures, scrolling through my phone with impunity. Turns out they offered us a ride down from the mountain – on a donkey. We were very skeptical at first but in the end we accepted. The elder daughter, Aziza, turned out to be our guide and brought us down to the nearest villiage.
Ale fajnie, chcę wiecej:))
Hey Olga, Hey Freddy
Thanks that i can join your travel. Guess its very exciting to get in touch with so many different cultures. I be honest I had to google where you are, thats normally not where the European stay on holiday.
I am looking forward to the next goal!
Today we celebrate Andes birthday, Maria and Ralf are also coming tonight
Enjoy Anke