Quchan

On Wednesday morning (15.01.2020), it's about a quarter to ten, I take a walk around the block with the Dicken. Then I prepare a small breakfast, complete my entry in the crisis preparedness list of the Foreign Office and then enjoy the soaked oatmeal at our campsite in front of Ak Altyn. While we pack our stuff, two young policemen keep us company and chat with us. They probably don't have anything better to do. Finally, around eleven-thirty, we are ready to march and continue our journey south. At the bus station, we can get on the first vehicle and leave Aşgabat in a meandering way. Almost like a little city tour. Before the city gates, we have to get off because there is no bus to the Iranian border. So we wait for a while on the side of the road until someone takes us to the border. Behind the first fence, we put down our backpacks, show our passports and have to wait. It takes about half an hour until we can get on a bus that takes us the last nearly 20 km to the border crossing to the Islamic Republic. The bus driver demands an outrageous ticket price before departure, but doesn't persist enough. We don't let ourselves be ripped off so easily, especially since we just took a bus in the capital for about 5 Eurocents. The border crossing is very relaxed, especially at the Iranian border post where the low number of personnel stands out. Two soldiers at the fence, one man with a stamp and one with a scanner. There's also someone who exchanges money and a taxi driver. I spontaneously think that probably all security forces are needed to suppress uprisings in the interior of the country. We are also the only pedestrians around. It feels strange. After we initially exchanged very little money and managed to turn down the taxi driver, we continue on our way to the next village, Bajgiran. Along the way, Marcus realizes that he doesn't have an entry stamp in his passport and I can't find one in my identification document either. The man in the glass booth has only one core task... So we go back to the border crossing. As it turns out, our passports were stamped on the 'Official Annotations' page. Stupid, but now it can't be changed anymore. When we are on our way to the next village again, the taxi driver bothers us again. The fare to Quchan has now dropped from $20 to $10, but still seems overpriced to us. The small town of Bajgiran also seems quite deserted and there is no coffee or cigarettes to be found for Marcus. However, we manage to find a cheap ride to Quchan. For 200 Rial (about $2), a man takes us in his car. Since another potential passenger declines because of Rango, the man receives 300 Rial when we arrive in Quchan and everyone seems quite happy with it. The city is bustling and we go straight to the first coffee bar we pass on our way to the center. It's been a while since I had a really good hot drink. Then we continue into the city. We visit the first accommodation listed on Marcus's map and after some back and forth about Rango, we can get a room. At first, the Dicken was supposed to go to a backyard, but I rejected that idea. Then a garage was considered, which seemed OK and Rango was already parked there, but then a place directly in the hostel was found. The basement was too dirty for me, so we went into a sort of storage room for the Dicken. Shortly afterwards, Rango tried to open the door several times and finally he was allowed to stay with Marcus and me. After that, the manager came by every few minutes with some other guest or acquaintance and showed off his four-legged guest. In the evening, we take a walk through the city, organize SIM cards and have a small dinner. On my way back, a policeman questions me about Rango, initially quite unfriendly, but increasingly friendly after revealing my nationality. At the hostel, another officer is waiting for me at the reception. It seems that my information about the accommodation is being checked. After Rango has been presented to various people again, we go to bed after dinner.

On Thursday, not much happens. We stroll to the bus station, inquire about connections to Mashhad, treat ourselves to a coffee in our coffee bar in the afternoon, and I take Rango for a few walks. Otherwise, it's time to relax, somehow I feel like I'm on the decline.

So on Friday (17.01.2020), I spend most of the day in a horizontal position. Fever and chills seem to be my most loyal companions for the day. The walks with Rango are quite short and I can't even motivate myself for a cup of coffee. This is probably the clearest sign that I'm sick.