In every direction there is only the blue horizon. This
morning The M/V Shahdag is in the middle of the Caspian Sea about 240 Km from Kazakhstan
with a cargo of 85 rail cars, and 2 BMW motorcycles, along with the accompanied
American and Belgian passengers.
It is Friday the 30th of May and I was supposed to
be at the Turkmen Embassy in Baku, Azerbaijan this morning to pick up a 5 day
transit visa. Instead I am on a rail ferry to Kazakhstan. This may be either the
best or worst decision of my trip, but I have decided to skip Turkmenistan. In
a completely serendipitous turn of events I met Tom Bosman on Thursday morning
as I was walking to find the ferry office. He was supposed to have been gone.
He was supposed to have been on this ship to Aktua, Kazakhstan alone because
his Turkmen visa was already expired. So what follows is the story.
I was staying at the Guest House Inn, a hostel/Hotel in downtown
Baku, where I arrived on Wednesday the 28th after my day of bribe. I
received an email from Tom that he was at the port and ready to sail; and, I
could find him if I followed directions. At about 8 I set out, but turned back
after about 20 minutes because I could not figure out what way to go to the
port at night, and I was hungry and tired.
When I woke up the next morning my anxiety was so intense
that I was having dry heaves in the shower. The idea of having to catch a ferry
and cross Turkmenistan in only 5 days by myself was terrifying.
My plan for Thursday was to find the port and ferry office,
figure out what I needed so I could return on Friday with my Turkmen visa to
book passage to Turkmenbashi. Then I was going to the Turkmen Embassy just to make
sure I had the right address because they are only open for a 4 hour window on
Mondays and Fridays.
As I was walking towards the port I saw a guy walking towards
me. It was Tom. Not only had the boat not sailed, it had not loaded and was
standing offshore. I still had not planned to go to Kazakhstan at this point
because all my Turkmen papers were in order. But Tom’s Turkmen invitation was
so messed up on days that he could never get his Turkmen visa, catch a boat,
and make it across the 1500 Km in one or two days. So he had booked for
Kazakhstan.
We turned back and went to the ticket office, which I would
have never found by myself. The lady there spoke only Russian and was kind of
abrupt. But the message was, if I had a Kazakhstan visa I could catch the boat.
Well, I did not have my passport with me, or my bike papers. And I could not
recall the validity dates of my KZ visa. I thought it started on June 1, which
would probably kill going on the boat with Tom.
But I went back and checked my visa. It was a multiple entry
valid from 20 January 2014. So I was good to go. Based on that, I made a
decision to go to KZ. Tom and I went out to buy provisions for the ferry. The
ticket agent had said to be back at 5 and she would sell me a ticket.
Enter Vika. Vika is the English speaking ticket agent for the
ferry line. She is a twit. I had spoken with Vika on the phone at the ferry
office at 11 and said I had a motorcycle. So I would need some extra paperwork.
Vika is the only one you can deal with to arrange vehicle passage; so you must
call her at +99 455 266 5354 to arrange the ticket. I have included this
information so that you can call her early if you are a traveler needing to
book passage with a vehicle.
At 1:30 I received an email from Tom that the ship was in and
loading and to call Vika again to get my ticket. So I did. She said she would
be there at 4:30 to sell the ticket so I could load the bike before the 5 pm
sailing. Yippee!
I packed my stuff and checked out. The hostel guy insisted on
returning my money for the 2 extra nights I had paid for. [Guest House Inn and
Hostel (on HostelWorld.com) bike friendly, www.bakuhostel.com, 16/23 Azadlig Ave., secure bike parking, 25 Euros per night mixed dorm.
Do not confuse it with Guest House Hotel – seems two places use the same name
in Baku] I was kind of surprised at that. But more later on the great
hospitality of the Azeri’s.
I got the port and tried to check the bike out at customs.
The guy said “call Vika” and I said I had and she would be at the office at
4:30 to sell the ticket. I gave him my card and we talked awhile. He was a bit
surprised I was a lawyer. My Russian is terrible, but we got along. The
business card with my degrees on it counts for a lot I found out later.
I was at the ticket office at 4:15. At 4:30 no one showed. It
turns out Vika is a complete flake and cannot be relied on at all. She had also
told Tom she would do things at particular times, and failed to do so. Anyway,
the original ticket agent showed at 5 and she wrote a ticket, and gave me a
price. Then I said “what about the cost for the motorcycle”. “Motorcycle, I
know of no motorcycle!” This was not
good. She threw my passport at me, took back my ticket and told me to get out
of her office! But she did not tell me to “get lost”.
Then phone calls were made. The customs agent I had talked
with earlier showed up, made some calls, shrugged his shoulders. And then he
told Tom the ship was loading and he better get going. Then he left. It turns
out he saved me. He knew Vika was to be there at 4:30 and the lazy twit had
just punted.
I did nothing. Tom and I just hung around the building
because we could hear the phone calls. Tom asked the ticket agent something,
and she asked for the weight of my bike. Then she said “5 minutes”.
At this point a guy comes barreling down the road, pulls a
U-Turn after passing the office, then proceeds to back in to a parking spot and
swagger into the office. On the way out he says “captain will decide”.
At 6 a car shows up filled with people. Vika is one of them.
No one is happy with Vika. In 10 minutes I have my ticket, bill of lading ($220
for passenger and bike), and Tom and I are each paying a $10 bridge fee. That
is imposed on vehicles crossing the rail plank onto the ferry. Everyone is
exasperated at Vika. I can just tell. My nose tells me this is not the first
time she has created problems.
It turns out the swagger guy is the captain. And he decided
to hold the boat for Tom and me.
I was very sad at the thought of being separated from Tom
because we had been trying to get together since Istanbul. When I met Tom on
the street that morning he was at his low point. He had spent the night on a
bench at the port. He was truly sleeping on a bench. His Turkmen visa plans
were in shreds. And he was going to Kazakhstan, which adds miles and lots of
problems with fuel in Uzbekistan.
Going with Tom to KZ just seemed like the right decision
because I would have someone to ride with on the most remote part of the
journey, the Tajik part of the Pamir Highway is closed for security reasons
(translate regional violence), going to Aktau was always plan B.
Well the Police check was very fast. The guys already knew
who I was because the customs agent had given them my card. There were 4 guys
and one woman in the office. Guess who did the work. But the police wanted to
know about my career and degrees. “Avocat” is a high status profession in most
of the world. Lawyers are members of the educated elite in most countries and
held in esteem; a nice change from the USA.
Then it was on to Immigration. There we were both scooted
through the process.
Presto, climb on to the bike and on to the ship. It is a bit
unnerving to ride a fully loaded GS motorcycle on a slippery rail bridge onto a
ferry. But I made a safe deck landing. Then the bikes had to
be muscled over
the rail tracks and secured. One of the guys wanted a tip. So I gave him 10
Manat. I figured I wanted the bike tied safely. The ferry did not have tie
downs (very unusual – but what I am talking about! – this entire story is
surreal).
Tom and I went up to the deck where we were given a room. It
was clean. The bathroom is clean. There is 10 Manat per day per person charge
for our meals. The food is good and plentiful.
I asked a deck hand about the captain. So I was brought to
the bridge. Then I met the swagger guy again. He is very nice and interesting.
He is obviously in charge of this vessel and knows what he is doing. His name
is Etibar Ismayil Ahmadov. I was on the bridge at the side of the captain when
we cast off at 7:30. We had made the boat!
I will know in two months whether that is a good or bad thing.
Not only were Tom and I allowed on the bridge, they enjoyed
our company. Having us along is different. There are some truckers too. But I
only saw them at breakfast. I have no idea where they slept.
I have some observations on the Azerbaijani’s I have met.
People are generally very open and helpful. There is the occasional Vika, and
the bad cops. But they are the exception. Most of the people are like the guy
who helped me find my hotel, Jeyhun Shahbazov at the hotel who is impeccably
honest, and the ship captain who held the boat because someone else screwed up.
And most especially like Amina at the ticket office, who kicked me out of her
office so she could do what she had to do in order to solve someone else’s mess
and problems not of her making.
Tom and I will travel together to Uzbekistan. We will have to
scrounge fuel. We know this from the reports of other travelers in the last 2
weeks.
But for now I am on a freighter with my bike lashed to a rail
winch.
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