Day 447: The Aral Sea Disaster

23.03.10: The train arrived at the town of Beyneu at about ten minutes to five in the morning, enjoyed a cup of tea in the little station cafe and after about an hour, I clambered on board the train for a place called Kungrad in Uzbekistan. We got to the border about midday, and the border process was quite alarmingly swift and painless. The stamp guys got on the train, grabbed everyone's passports and after half an hour, gave them all back - I didn't even need to get up from my seat. Which means.... I'M IN UZBEKISTAN! Wooooo! 149! 149! 149! Soon enough, I found myself snoozing as the pitiful remnants of the Aral Sea sped by far to the east. The Aral Sea disaster. I have to admit, before I read about it in the Lonely Planet I had never even heard of the…

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Day 446: Guns N’ Roses

22.03.10: I gave up all hope of a schedule months ago. When people ask me (and they do) when I think I'll be finished I just shrug and change the subject. If I can get to India by May I will be one happy ginger galavanter, but I've got a long way to go until then, and Eritrea and The Seychelles still hang over this whole challenge like a sword of Damocles. I tell you what though, when I was getting the knock back from the border with Algeria three weeks ago, if you had told me that I'd be here in Kazahkstan today, I'd have given you a big kiss. Even if you thought Apple made good computers and everything. As all good Lost fans know, time seems to have a way of 'course correcting' and The Odyssey is not immune to this. Imagine if…

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Day 445: The Naxçivan

21.03.10: This must be the most incredibly naff ship I've been on so far; all dirty floors, peeling fake wood wallpaper, murky corridors, broken lights, stained matress, rusty bulkheads, dripping plumbing, doors that don't close properly... Lovely! BUT AT LEAST THE TEA WAS FREE. And that makes ALL the difference in my book. I would suffer any kind of hardship as long as there was free tea on offer. And, in it's favour, The Naxçivan was incredibly quiet and smooth... so much so that I didn't notice for the best part of an hour that we had left port. Maybe there was no engine... maybe it was powered by the 1984 Soviet Olympic Rowing Team, chained and manacled to the Naxçivan's hull, their anguished cries for help stifled by the fact that they had their tongues removed before the fall of the Berlin Wall. Why the…

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