The Uzbekistan-Kyrgystan border has been for a long time, one of the most locked down in Central Asia, and this is evident as I ride past the Kyrgzish side of miles and miles of the 20-year-old barrier fence on my way to one of the few crossings. Bridges and roads that once connected neighbouring communities sit in no-mans land bound by barbed wire and watched over by border posts, in a claimed attempt to stop Islamist terrorist attacks. Whilst Uzbekistan is still regarded as one of the least free countries in the world, things are slowly improving after the death of long-term dictator Islam Karimov. In particular the government are pressing ahead with the liberalisation of anything that helps bring in tourists cash. My evisa was easy and cheap compared to the system that was in place just days before I arrived, and entering the country was not nearly as difficult as reports from fairly recent years had suggested.
The crossing I had decided to use is closed to cars, and is between two tiny populations (barely villages), but was bustling with locals shuffling back and forward across the border - many carrying pallets full of goods on trolleys, returning with another load, and then repeating the exercise. As I arrived, I heard the word tourist sprinkled through quite a few of the sentences being spoken. This is clearly not a border used all that often by foreigners, so I got some attention from both the locals and the authorities. Even so, I cleared the Kyrgyzstan side fairly quickly, and then was greeted by Uzbek guards, excited to see an evisa. They all gathered around the computer and scanner, discussing how to process it. It all took a little bit longer than my other Central Asian border crossings, but was painless enough and the staff were very friendly.
Once inside Uzbekistan, I asked one of the border police where to find an ATM, and he explained there was no ATM here nor in the nearby town of Izboskan, the nearest is in Andijan, 40kms away (long after I will need to stop for food and water). Instead the policeman directed me towards a blackmarket moneychanger standing by the border. Yes, the policeman directed me to a blackmarket money changer! I got a very reasonable rate, roughly the same as I would get in an Uzbekistan bank or ATM. In return for a crisp single 100USD note, I got a stack of notes big enough to wallpaper a small room.
From then on I had a great impression of the people of the Fergana valley. Every few minutes someone would wave at me shouting "Chai! Chai!" (tea), many grinning a wide golden grin, much like the character "Jaws" from the James Bond film. I stopped a few times, but if I had stopped for every one, I would not have been able to get to Andijan that evening.
Uzbekistan, like Western China, is a return for me to more restricted accommodation for foreigners. On one level it's not as bad as Western China - here most hotels can register foreigners and there is a degree of flexibility (you can get away without registering for 3 days). However on the flip side, there are much harsher penalties if you are caught without registration slips - large fines and deportation (though endemic corruption gives you "alternative" options); whereas in China, whilst some large towns with many many hotels will only allow you to stay in a single designated "foreigner hotel", there is usually no punishment for tourists caught in a non-foreigner hotel, other than being moved along (often in the middle of the night) to one.
Uzbekistan, like Western China, is a return for me to more restricted accommodation for foreigners. On one level it's not as bad as Western China - here most hotels can register foreigners and there is a degree of flexibility (you can get away without registering for 3 days). However on the flip side, there are much harsher penalties if you are caught without registration slips - large fines and deportation (though endemic corruption gives you "alternative" options); whereas in China, whilst some large towns with many many hotels will only allow you to stay in a single designated "foreigner hotel", there is usually no punishment for tourists caught in a non-foreigner hotel, other than being moved along (often in the middle of the night) to one.
When out cycling, particularly in the heat, the kind offers of piping hot tea just does not really work for me. In these conditions I normally want to glug back a litre or 2 of liquid, the colder the better, not carefully sip on scalding hot liquid. I politely drink a little when I stop, and chat as much as language barriers permit, but I still need to stop regularly to buy cold drinks to take on enough fluid to actually effectively rehydrate.
On one occasion, the shopkeeper who sold me a bottle of drink that I quickly demolished, absolutely refused to take any money for my second drink/ice-cream - a typical act of kindness in this area. Tourism is common in the iconic cities of Samarkand, Bukhara and Khiva, in the middle of the country; but is much less common here. With the visa floodgates now open and Uzbekistan fast becoming the must-see destination in this part of the world, that will surely change. It's exciting to visit such an interesting place before the hoards arrive.
After showering, it's with agonising pain shooting down my leg from my lower back, that I hobble to the nearest place for dinner, and I have an uncomfortable restless night. From the next day the pain is the most it has been, and on arriving in the town of Margilan, I end up staying 4 days hoping my back and leg will settle, but they don't. On the advice of two former colleagues from my time at Nexus International School Malaysia, I bypass the local hospital, leave my bike and cycle tour gear in Margilan, and catch a train to the capital, to visit Tashkent International Clinic. Karine is originally from Uzbekistan, and met her husband Brian while they were both working at the International School of Tashkent, and they tell me that the International Clinic is the one used and trusted by all the teachers at the school.
The Doctor at the clinic runs similar tests, and comes to similar conclusions to the Doctor in Bishkek (though unlike in Bishkek, she is fairly adamant that I need to stop until the condition stabilises). She prescribes some stronger anti-inflammatory and also some muscle relaxants, but is not convinced that I need a scan. After some discussion she changes her mind, and later that afternoon I get an MRI at a local hospital for the princely sum of $25!
The damage is bad enough that at first my insurance want to fly me back to the UK (to minimise their risk of having to collect me by air ambulance if things get worse). By the time my GP gets back to them with my medical file (to confirm that this is not a recurrence of an undeclared pre-existing condition), the medication has kicked in, and the pain has eased enough that the insurance are happy for me to continue with treatment here, in the hope that it clears up enough for me to carry on.
Getting the report from my GP is not only a logjam (thankfully as it turns out in my case, but otherwise not a good situation), but also the most expensive part of the whole thing, and the insurance aren't going to pay for it. Later on, looking it up on the internet I discover that it's a common grievance by other unfortunate injured or sick insurees, and has led to significant problems in cases where the medical report has been withheld pending payment (my GP did send mine before payment cleared). The question has to be - why aren't my records up to date in a format that can be forwarded at the click of a mouse by an administrator? And if they are kept in an organised way, then why do they charge so much for an administrator just to click a button? It's a shocking exploitation of people who are in no position to argue the case or seek an alternative provider at the time they urgently need their medical report. I know that GP surgeries are a business and have to make a living, but this particular cash-cow seems to be one that is unfairly overmilked, simply because it is a soft target.
After a week to allow the worst of the inflammation to subside, I start regular physiotherapy. Progress is very slow - I see gradual lessening of the pain, and slight increases in my range of motion, but after 3 weeks I'm still nowhere near better - I still walk with a limp, and walking beyond a few hundred metres causes significant pain. My visa is about to run out, and one of the things I was most looking forward to doing - attending the World Nomad Games in Kyrgyzstan is coming up. I have no choice but to leave the country, but I can come straight back, as I have already managed to sort out a second evisa. The decision is whether to do the fastest possible turnaround to carry on with my treatment, or to go to the game whilst I'm out of the country. For the past 3 weeks, I have been mostly sitting/lying around and doing my physio exercises 3 times a day - so why not sit/lie around by Issyk Kul Lake, watching the games and continue doing my exercises? If making my way to and from individual events proves to be difficult, I can just rest up at the guesthouse at Issyk Kul. If nothing elses it will be a change of scenery. My physio reluctantly agrees. She's not against the idea, just adamant that I must be very careful, and must continue with my exercises. That's a no-brainer in my situation!
And so I'm leaving Uzbekistan, excited to be attending an event that is unique in the world, but a little nervous about how the back/leg situation will pan out away from the hostel/clinic that have become my "safety zone" for the past few weeks whilst recovering.
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