My Experience in Tajikistan: Here's the short version of how close my trip nearly came to an abrupt halt.

I left Samarkand, Uzbekistan and headed east to the Tajikistan border. My plan was to stop briefly in the town of Penjikent and find transport either to Khojand (the second largest city) or Dushanbe (the capital and largest city). I exited Uzbekistan, officially ending my single-entry visa, then walked about 150 feet and had Tajik authorities stamp my single-entry visa. I wasn't in the country ten seconds when a taxi driver announced loudly, "Road closed!"

The first thought I had was, "If I looked into this more carefully, I would have known this and chosen a different route." The second thing I thought was "Why didn't any of the dozen-or-so clods I just dealt with tell me this?" And my third and most discouraging thought was, "It's entirely possible I'm going to be here until spring."

I checked into what everyone told me was the only hotel in town: an ice-cold, hideous dump with no running water commonly known as the Intourist Hotel. There was one dim light bulb and no electrical outlets in the room. The feces-packed "toilet" was located outside at least 100 feet away. I just want everyone reading this to know that I would rather spend the night in any American prison than in this hotel. In prison, you have a toilet in your cell, and someone comes by to make sure you haven't frozen to death. I paid US$20, slept under ten blankets and got terribly sick anyway.

The next morning, a taxi driver I had met the previous day came to my door. The road to Khojand was open, he said, and it would take several hours to get there. I dreaded this ride, because I knew it was a long, snow-covered, mountainous road with few guard rails driven by fearless, speeding maniacs.

Three hours into the ride, we reached some kind of checkpoint. I jumped out of the car to take a leak, When I got back in the car, the four others inside looked like they had forgotten to take their anti-depressants. "The road's closed," the driver said. Well, he didn't actually say it. Nobody in this car spoke a single word of English. He made a universal symbol which will forever make me cringe: he crossed his arms into an "X" to indicate "closed."

Everyone sat in silence for several minutes. Then a spirited conversation took place between the others. They all agreed to return to Penjikent rather than wait (or sleep) in the car, and they were waiting for my approval. "Penjikent," I sighed as I waved my arm forward. The car drove back to where we started, the whole day was lost, and I was back at the Hotel Pneumonia.

I was really demoralized and worried, because nobody anywhere spoke English, and when I could understand them, the message was always the same: roads closed, no planes, no Uzbekistan consulate to get another visa. I knew if I bribed my way back into Uzbekistan I was opening myself up to disaster. I was out of ideas, so I asked God for help. I figured it couldn't hurt.

At the only Internet cafe, there were four computers. I got the phone numbers for the American Embassy from their website, but the calls did not go through. I sent them an email asking for advice. I asked a girl if she knew anyone who spoke English. Suddenly, a boy popped up from behind a wall and said, "I speak English."

I told him the entire story. He listened and said he understood. "I think I know someone who can help you." He took me for a thirty-second walk and brought me to an office. Inside was a man who spoke perfect English with a slight accent. The two got into a heated argument and the boy was asked to leave. I stayed behind and asked the still-angry man for help. It was at that exact moment that I knew everything was going to be ok.

T.C. knew everyone and everything. He said the road to Dushanbe would be open in a few days and if it wasn't, there would certainly be a plane. When he heard where I was staying, he invited me to stay with him in his nice, warm apartment. Dozens of interesting, amazing people passed through his doors. I had developed a really bad cold, and everyone seemed concerned and helped me get better.

My new pal knew exactly how to get me on that plane. He wanted to go to Dushanbe to see a friend, and I happily paid for his ticket. What started out as a disaster ended up bringing me together with some of the greatest people I've met in all my travels. Still, I gotta tell you, when I saw that chicken-noodle-soup can with wings on the runway of Penjikent airport, I nearly cried with joy.

After a few days in Dushanbe, T.C. and I headed to the Afghanistan border. We got stamped out and boarded the boat to cross the river. Immediately, the workers began looking at us funny. We were told the Afghan border was closed for the day -- we had arrived too late. I told T.C. that I would forgive him for this one, but with all the money in my pocket, we better not be sleeping in the officials' minibus. The police took us to a hotel and brought us back to the boat in the morning. Tajikistan was now behind me, but I wouldn't change anything about my visit. Sometimes, in the darkest of moments, brightness is just around the corner.

Penjikent Airport: Monument to the first female Soviet pilot

Children around the world love to have their pictures taken

Penjikent street scene

Goats blocking a bridge in the mountains. They were
probably warning us that the road ahead was closed.

Preparing for the flight to Dushanbe

View from above

Dushanbe airport

Law and Oredr??

True story: In the middle of the night, two drunk policeman switched on this ride and
climbed on. The ride was still spinning in the morning with the two dead men aboard.

Dushanbe: Statue of Shah Ismail Somani

Dushanbe: Anyi Opera and Ballet Theatre

How babies are born in Tajikistan

The flag of Tajikistan