Borat country/ The Mongolian death worm
We thought it was strange how popular Ashgabat hotels seemed to be. Every Hostel was full. After a few hours and much pleading we were told by an American lady that the Turkmens happen to be extremely racist and in fact only let foreigners stayin bugged rooms and only if they look acceptable. On hearing this, it made sense, Will has no shoes and a ginger beard, Mim has shaved slits in his eyebrow and has half a flip flop, Lewis has a mowhawk/ piercing and Tom smells like the back end of a Mammoths arse.So, we decided that a $15 investment for a bed would be much better spend on beer and headed to the very cultural "British pub". We were outraged at the price of beer and decided local vodka was the next best path to take. Unfortunately the pub closed after half an hour of us getting there so we were kicked out onto the street with 4 bottles of vodka and some very angry looking army guys who looked ready to enforce the 11pm curfew.
We were quickly saved by some American pilots who paid for taxis for us to a local hotel bar and we strolled into a low lit courtyrad full of tables of women. Tom swaggered over to one and came scurrying back 5mins later to spread to news. Turns out we had walked into a mini brothel. We hid ourselves away at the bar and angeredf the staff by ordering the cheapest vodka on the menu in rounds of 20 or more and eventually made our excuses and left. Lewis then stole a cat and we got another camp (minus the cat) to a secretive underground bar where we suddenly realised we had no money whatsoever, even our reserve taxi money had gone on the 50p vodka shots at the hotel. We quickly left and realised that 1/ It was 3am, way beyond curfew, 2/ the streets were crawling with police and 3/ we had NO idea where we were. After some hurried hand signals and waving, a russian girl walked us back to our tents (in a hotel carpark)and Mim tried to urinate on a Turkmenbashi statue, saved at the last minute by lewis who noticed, unlike Mim, the military checkpoint that was about 5 foot away.... With a sore head, we were woken up in the early hours by a grumpy looking attendant who shifted us on. Definately still over the limit we swaggered to the Russian market where we cured our aching bodies with a bit of retail therapy. Lewis bought some chavvy sunglasses and Tom and Will bought cosy Sheepskin hats....forgetting it was 50 degrees so entirely pointless. Eventually we bought a dodgy kebab, ran to the toilets and Will made the worst parallel park we can remember, we then headed out towards the border on one of the two roads in the country and were soon greeted by some of the most horrendous roads of teh trip. ridges of tarmac a foot high and potholes littered the drive and truckers liberally swerved all over the roads to avoid them leaving Dobby fighting for his life as he dodged between them all. While this was going on, we had policemen every 10minutes running into the road and waving orange batons at usto stop, before trying to create some excuse to fine us, some of the finer ones were insisting that our car was "illegally dirty" and that Mim was not actually British. Tom discovered an excellant way of confusing and delaying the police however, by reciting song lyrics to them. This was all very good until he asked a policeman "Do you beleive in miracles? Where're you from, you sexy thing?"Â to which the policemen got the jist and started to give Tom some angry looks, waving his baton at us.....We had had enough of Turkmenistan and after a man stole our papers and insited on $10 for a bridge tax, Will and Lewis lost it, throwing small change at the man andwe powered to the Uzbek border. After some more Turmenistan hassle we made it to Uzbekistan where the people were instantly 100x nicer, chatting to Mim about Bollywood whilst Lewis, Tom and Will tried out their Russian and flirted their way to a quick and smooth crossing. We powered through the night to Bukhara, and after an hour of circling "The Ark" we realised that it was in fact an acient citadel and not anything to do with a an actual arc. We treated ourselves to a swanky hostel and had a good kip. The next day we explored the beautiful city and Mim decided to blend in with the locals by buying a local shirt, which only would have blended him in if every Uzbekistani was a waiter at an Indian restaurant! Upon smiffing his armpit Tom realised that the shirt he was wearing was in fact the same shirt Will had tried to throw away after it was caught in his crossfire following a bad Turkmen kebab...he quickly followed Mim and went for the waiter look. Tom and Will then haggled for some more sheepskin hats (apparently 45 degrees is a perfectly acceptable temperature to wear one) and Tom changed money at the bank and came out thinking theyd made a mistake, waving a huge wad of cash in huis hand. Unfortunatley the Uzbek som only comes in 1000 notes and there are several thoasand to the pound, which makes paying for petrol and hostels pretty trickey...
 Still behind on time (those damn Turkmens!!!) we raced to Taskent to find that the border was closed and we had to double back 60km to Yallama, pedel to the metal, Captain Slow Collier took Dobby to new landspeed records and we just got their in time to meet a few other ralliers and Will turned on his charm to sweet talk the border guards into letting us come through. Unbelievevable Tekkers. When we got to the Kazak side we were met by bumper to bumper lorries and after a lot of scrathing and sneaky driving we squeezed through the queue in a very un-British way with millimetres to spare and after some more faffing and some good bribe dodging by Lewis we made it to Borat country and camped out in the desert. The nice roads to Almaty were a nice break from the rest of the trip and we managed to notch up several police stops, including Tom being accused of being drunk and Mim trying to out run a police Mercedes AMG, we may call him the Stig, but not even Stiggy can take a 1.2 to 120mph....We made camp in the mountains and shortly after setting up tent Will stood on something crunchy and looking down we realised that we were surrounded by bones. Several theories were thrown around, including Wills theory of a genocide site and Tom inisiting it was just a few unlucky camels. Eventually we just manned up and slept.
 We arrived the next day in Almaty and surprise surprise, GOT LOST! We pulled over and tried to figure out how their ATMs worked and eventually found our way with the help of a nice man with lots of gold teeth. On finding the "hostel" (as described by lonely planet) Will and Tom realised the book had clearly lied and they haqd ended up in teh halls of residence of the Agricultural University of Almaty (Despite 3 tractors parked in the carpark it took Tom a while to believe). After trekking arounf for half an hour and leaving some very confused looking Kazakh students, Tom found an army man, who lead us to an office, who lead us to a Tailor who lead us to the hostel! WOOP....but it was full...so we stayed in an ex-commie hotel for $6 a night and had one "bathroom" between 80 people. Oops.To raise morale we headed to Soho Bar and had a few beers and kebabs before we got a surprise call from the Wolverines, who had driven 36 hours and rolled their car but still made it. We fetched thepoor sods and on the way back got a call from a very excited Mim who directed us to a wide street where the local rude boys were drifting their cars and doing donuts. Lewis insisted that we should bring Dobby down for a spin, but we didnt think that a Doblo, complete with Roofrack and jerry cans would quite fit in next to the Nissan Skylines and Porches. After Lewis goty threatedned for taking of pictures of a HUGE car, we met some Americans and went to find the only nightclub open on a Monday (conveniently located between a sports bar, shopping centre and strip club, dont worry mothers, we only went to one of the 3...) The night from then on was a bit of blur, after Lewis, Mim and some of the Wiolverines headed to watch Man U play we met the son of the owner of Samsung who ploughed us with tequila until Tom was cracking out all the moves on the dancefloor, reeling in everyone around him, Duncan was arm wrestling the locals and Will face planted onto the dance floor trying to show off how he could do "that dance from LMFAO. The night ended with Tom trying to speak Russian to the fit girl at the cloak room, Duncan, Ash and Jamie getting arrested, and Will being left alone in the clubat 5am, communicating with the locals by scrawling drunken pictures on napkins. Needless to say the hangovers were once again pretty epic, and Tom and Will declared themselves unfit to drive for at least 24 hours, leaving Lewis and Mim to chauffer the fools northwards. Not much happened the next few days and this is a really long blog, but we saw some camels, a few dodgy stomach bugs were picked up and the roads were really bad. And we found Marijuana growing wild at the side of the road (after about 5 false stops)
We got to Semey near the Russian border and quickly made our way through on finding out that our sperm counts would be severeley diminshed by the nuclear testing the Soviets did in the area in the 50's. The Kazak border was no hassle and the Russians were surprisingly nice, the only problem came when they searched the car and somehow got the idea that Lewis was a gangster asking him where his guns were. Defiant to the end Lewis stood his ground, pulled up his trousers, combed his hair and insisted "NO GANGSTER...ME GEEK" and made glasses with his fingers. This seemed to satisfy teh guards, who probably thought Lewis was a little bit special.
 We blitzed it through Russia, stopping to pick up some 1litre cans of beer in an ex-KGB town called Barnaul (magically appeared onRussian maps after the fall of the Soviet Union), and impressing some local girls with our Kanye West and ignorant drivin, on the wrong side of the road and up one way streets...we are pretty hardcore. The mountains were amazing and reminded us of Switzerland but sadly we were in a rush to make it to Mongolia so had no time for a wash or stop off. We reached the Mongolian border 3 days ago at Tsaanganuur and were forced to camp the night. Given that just a few days ago we had been in temperatures of 40 degrees,Mongolia was freezing and we all huddled together in no mans land withthe Wolverines, some Scots and some Romanians, chatting about the fearsome Mongolian deathworm who according to Tom "has heat vision and only sriked with the sun behind it!".We russled up some disgracefully cooked pasta by Will who was forced to wash up and Tom shot him in the hand with a slingshot. This was shortly followed by a spat between Tom and Will where Will half suceeded in toppling Tom of his chair. But its okay, they hugged 5minutes later. And so the next morning we crossed our final border and made it into Mongolia, and talk about an inaudation of fire! Let me just say that tarmac does not exist in Mongolia. In Mongolia you dont follow roads....you make them. Rocks the size of our fist and potholes 4 foot wide are good going. Ontop of this there is never one road, there are 6 or 7, all winding off in the same direction. Dobby has coped well though, and despite some bumps and bangs we have ploughed onto Altai, crossing several rivers and getting 200km off course towards China when we all got a bit excited and decided to herd camels with the car. There were some very confused looking goat farmers that day. 1000km to go! Stay classy England