Tajikistan - seven Lakes, no Visa

5 July 2022

Samarkand being only a 35km taxi ride away from the frontier with Tajikistan, we decided to spend a few days in this next "Stan. We drove past fields of cotton (“the white gold” of Uzbekistan and picked partly by forced labour) which gave way to biscuit-coloured hills nibbled by goats. Houses, built with bricks of mud, straw and water, had fast-growing poplars (for timber) outside their perimeter walls, fruit trees within. Life in the countryside looked very different to that in the cities, it felt as if we were in a time machine set at a date several centuries in the past.

Arriving at the border post, we easily cleared Uzbek customs and then walked through a long, lonely no-mans land up to the Tajik border post. Armed guards and ferocious-looking dogs eyed us suspiciously. In the distance we could already hear the clamour of Tajiks trying to push through the gates on the other side, beseeching the single customer officer stationed there to let them through and offering him their passports as if they were bribes. It was chaotic and we wondered why they were in such a hurry to leave Tajikistan behind (we were soon to find out). But meantime, we had some problems of our own.

Handing over my British passport, the customs officer informed me that I needed a visa. Google confirmed this was the case and I silently swore at myself for not having checked. Luckily, there was a solution. Google also informed me that no visa was required with a European Union passport and so I handed over my French passport. Now he was confused. Two passports? How come? He called his superior who arrived and who then proceeded to meticulously check both.

«How come you have two passports?», he continued. I explained that French nationality came through marriage and that dual citizenship is not uncommon in Europe.

«Sir, you leave Uzbekistan with a British passport and want to enter Tajikisan with French passport?»

«Yes», I replied, «is there a law against that?»

He didn’t know but he was going to find out and made some quick calls, then paced around his office looking intently at both passports as if the right answer would pop out from them at any moment.

Finally, he handed both passports back to his subordinate and left. The subodinate waited a while and then called his chief on the phone to as what to do as we waited with bated breath. To our relief, he then stamped the French passport and welcomed us to his country.

We still had to negotiate the crowd still baying at the gate to get through to the other side and then finally we were in Tajikistan. United with our Tajik driver, Rachid, whom we had found on the internet, we set off to the main tourist attraction in the area, the Seven Lakes, in his beaten-up Opel. Hs was going to drive us there and back for 80 US dollars, less than half of what a travel agency in Samarkand had quoted us for the same trip.

First, we needed to get some local currency and buy some food supplies in the nearest town, Panjakent. At a key crossroads, this ancient city has been a melting pot of Silk Road cultures, with Zoroastrians, Buddhists, Manicheans and Nestorian Christians all passing through and staying awhile. Well-preserved, the original street grid is intact, though the bustle – apart from at the bazaar - has long since gone.

We abandoned the idea of queuing at an ATM when we saw a long line of people waiting at each of them. Apparently, one could only withdraw a maximum of 20 US dollars a day and there was a frenzy each morning to get the cash before the ATM’s ran dry. Rachid advanced us some somoni, the local currency, to buy some meat pasties, bread, water and fruit at the local market. Then we were finally off.

After a few kilometres on the main road to Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan, we turned onto a smaller paved road which eventually became a dirt road. The unpaved, bumpy, winding roads were basically the width of one car and if someone else was heading the other way, they had to look for a nook in the mountain to pull over as only one vehicle could fit. At times it was quite scary as the single track road zigzagged slowly around the mountains but the experienced Rachid expertly negotiated all the obstacles and did not put a foot wrong the whole trip.

This journey took about an hour before we got to the first lake at 1800m altitiude. The other lakes of various sizes followed over the course of the next 15 km up to 2400m. The scenery was breathtaking, the rugged beauty of the rocky mountains, the placid blue and green water of the lakes, the noisy and untamed river crashing down the valley the only sound in the empty,heavenly peace. We spent about 20-30 minutes at each lake, doing a little hiking to stretch our legs and admiring the views.

Then it was time to head back. We had already decided that a day trip to Tajikistan was enough for us but there was one other place we wanted to visit before Rachid took us back to the border.

The ancient town of Sarazm dates back to the 4th millennium BC and is today a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Located 15 kilometers west of Panjakent, the site occupies an area of about 1.5 km in length and 400 to 900m in width. At the peak of the occupation, the site would have covered an area of up to 90 hectares.

The site is of great interest for archaeologists as it constitutes the first historical agricultural society in this region of Central Asia. Sarazm was the first city in Central Asia to maintain economic relations with a network of settlements covering a vast territory from the Turkmenistan steppes and the Aral sea (in the northwest) to the Iranian Plateau and the Indus (in the south and southeast).

The city is also believed to have been a mining point to collect from nearby sources of turquoise. Moreover, the surrounding Zerafshan valley is rich in minerals: gold, silver, galena, copper, tin and mercury. Evidence shows that the metals were actually worked there too, indeed, it has been claimed that around 3000 BC, Sarazm was the largest exporting metallurgical center of Central Asia.[

The museum was disappointingly uninteresting but we wandered around the excavations to admire the multi-room habitations, communal buidings and burial sites.

Then we were back at the border. Again we showed our passports, as luck would have it, to the same customs officer who had let us in that morning. Would there be more drama?

«What, you again? Leaving already? You cannot appreciate our country in one day.»

He held on to my passport tightly. Was he going to give it back to me?

«You have to stay a few days, take in some music, dancing and eating...»

My heart missed a beat. I had enjoyed my short stay to Tajikistan but I was not wildly mad about staying on any longer.

Then he handed it over with a wry smile and we were out of there, or at least, into no man’s land with Uzbekistan and our driver waiting on the other side to take us back to civilization.