NUKUS

After Bukhara, the desert starts again. About 500 km of almost nothing. Even my friends, the Uzbek Policemen, didn´t stop me as usual. Too much hot to move their arms. I met a group a British bikers. They were fifteen leaded by an experimented guide and they have also a 4X4 car with spares, tyres and tools. And they even have a mechanic guy travelling with them just in case they burn a small lamp. They ride with a big organization of bike travels and I guess they have paid a big amount of money to do their lifetime adventure. All of them were wearing the most expensive BMW equipment and riding the most prepared bikes. I felt like a little poor guy riding alone and wearing a sweated and dirty T Shirt. Same travel, very different experience.

Now I am in Nukus, capital of the semi independent Republic of Karalpalkastan. The Tashkent Hotel is like a war zone. Here I can imagine the Sarajevo Hilton in the worst days of the Bosnia Conflict. I felt like a guest in Hell. Everything is broken, rust and dirty. Empty bottles of vodka in the wardrobe. No running water and no toilet paper. I had shower using a bucket and a can. The lift works from time to time and my room is in ninth floor. I have very good view of a tin homes neighbourhood. I laugh so often here thinking this a God´s joke. But none of us can complaint at all. This morning I have been running along the channel. There are a lot of homes with no sanitary devices at all. People have bath in the stinky mud and also take water there for their domestic uses. Our western skin is too thin. Life in Third World is so hard and we should feel much happier than we usually do.

Keep Safe.