A quiet road winding through the rolling dry hills, slowly flattening out to a wide, dry expanse. Warm, but not roasting, cooled by the steady headwind, we plodded along to our goal – to be at the border of Turkmenistan, ready for the upcoming 5-day Turkmenistan dash.
The road to Sarakhs
Cycling with Thomas has a different focus. We stop for scenery shots – both him and I do that. Then, all of a sudden, I find myself sitting next to a mud hut in a small village, next to the village women rolling cheese. They sit around a central metal vat with a big chunk of white gooey mass, and take handfuls, rolling it into a diamond shape for drying. Grandmothers, mothers and little kids join in, laughing and talking as they work. We sit next to them drinking the tea they gave us, and tasting the bread and cream.
Cheese?
The little village
Then we stop next to a shepherd watching his sheep graze on the side of the road. A young boy – probably about 10 years old – he laughs and jokes with us. He suddenly whistles and bangs a stick on the road sign to put the sheep back into place. How life can be different to the one I have grown up with and know.
Shepherd
Sitting in the border town’s only hotel, our electrical devices hang from every powerpoint. Masses of water is bought, and I have filled my snack bag as well as possible in the small market that has little that I want to buy. Turkmenistan – here we come!
The road to Sarakhs
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