Silk, Sand and Vodka: Of Donkeys, Horse Milk and Goat Heads

Rest day again in Khorog which is a nice town in Tajikistan. Nicer than the other towns that we have seen.We are in a lovely hotel on the banks of a nameless river. The hotel only has a few rooms so we are camping on the green grass on the shores of the river. The most interesting fact of this river is that Afghanistan is on the other side. Just a stone throw away but probably advisable not to throw any stones.

We have clocked 6900km now and are officially more than half way to Istanbul.The last couple of days we have been riding the Pamir highway and we are six days from the end. It has been a lot of suffering but suffering in a party dress so to speak. Mountains, rivers and valleys to die for. We have crossed several mountain passes over 4000m and camped at 4300m one night. The temperature in my Hilleberg tent was -2 C. Not too bad so I didn't have to look for a male muscle package to heat me up.

Erwin thought he had died and gone to heaven because one night we camped in a meadow of Edelweisses. Now he had his share of Edelweisses for more than one lifetime. And his heart rate doesn't go up anymore. Only once when I picked one for my lapel.

A girl and a donkey walking on Edelweisses. Zoom for detail. There are no horses at this altitude because they die of heart attacks but the donkeys seem to thrive.

At the start of the Pamir Highway was this impressive fence that the Soviet Union built between Tajikistan and China. I don't know whether it was to keep the Chinese out of The Soviet or the Soviets out of China. I will have to ask my former husband who has read more than 900 books on the Second World War. He might know.

Closer view of the fence and me standing with one foot in China

We have seen the most spectacular Moslem grave sites. Often much more glamorous than the houses where the live people live. These dead people have a wonderful view from their graves. That is if they are not too busy playing with the 77 virgins.

We are woken each morning with an ode to Mecca and will probably be exposed to that until we have our final dinner in Istanbul. The weird thing is that the dogs seems to be converted as well because they regularly join the crescendo. Even at the 4300m camp we were not spared. There were only 3 nomad huts but somehow they managed to make the hills alive with the sound of Mecca.

Nomadic girls, hopefully all virgins.

Cows with a view

These girls were selling sour horse milk. I was thirsty but I declined. I was reluctantly exposed to that specific delicacy the day before. I was running out of water and a young man in a car stopped and offered me a drink. I had to accept because for the last hour I could see the shadow of a vulture flying above me. The drink tasted like the vomit of someone who had had porridge and sour milk. It had bits in it. But the vulture disappeared soon after. He didn't like horse milk either.