Leon Logothetis's Blog, page 20
July 30, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 16: Remembering what’s important on the road
Turkmenistani villagers welcome the Mongol Ralliers. (Leon Logothetis / July 29, 2012)
The Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile road trip that started in Britain and should end in about three weeks in Ulan Bator, Mongolia, is not just about adventures. Equally important are the people you connect with along the way. On Sunday night, I had the good fortune of stumbling across a small Turkmenistani village where I made connections galore.
Steve Priovolos, my co-driver and I, were trying to drive to a larger town, but we finally realized we coulnd’t make it and that a night camping under the stars was inevitable. Driving on most Turkmenistani roads is suicidal at night, unless you are a local, and then it seems to be normal practice. It just wasn’t an option for us.
At the entrance to a smaller village I asked one of the first chaps I saw whether we could camp by his house. He said yes, that we could set up camp near the center of the village, right next to the Caspian Sea. Perfect.
Then things got interesting. All the village children came running up to the car and started taking pictures and asking for autographs. The joy in their faces was priceless. They were genuinely over the moon to be with an foreigner who had a car adorned with hundreds of stickers. What a sight.
Even the adults got in on the action, inviting me to their houses for dinner. They were exceptionally friendly. That doesn’t always happen in the Western world. After the kids had taken pictures it was time for me to sleep.
The only thing worrying me at this point were the flies and the camels who were eyeing up my cookies.
July 28, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 15: Buoyed by the kindness of strangers
What this world needs is a new kind of army—the army of the kind. –Cleveland Amory
About 1,100 miles ago we were on the outskirts of Volgograd, Russia. When we stopped for gas I noticed a shiny object protruding from my back right tire. On closer inspection, I realized a nail had punctured the tire.
After consulting with Steve Privolos, my co-driver on the 10,000-mile road trip from Britain to Ulan Bator, Mongolia, known as the Mongol Rally, we decided we would keep the nail and keep driving. The tire seemed to be holding air.
We decided to risk it because we have a date with destiny in Mongolia, where we hoped we’d complete this adventure and enable us to donate 10,000 books to FirstBook.org. The fact that neither of us knows how to fix a tire may have played into our decision making.
When we reached the town of Aktau in Kazakhstan, 1,100 miles later, the tire was still functioning.
On Saturday, that changed.
As we were driving to the Turkmenistan border, the tire gave out. Fortunately it didn’t explode on the main road but went pear shaped in town. Our date with the inevitable came with a dose of good luck: All of this happened next to a tire repair shop.
We spent half the day in the dilapidated shop with two new friends, Artem and Bashad. They fed us and even introduced us to some of their friends. They replaced the spare tire and even fixed the old tire, and their kindness and friendship warmed the heart. They wouldn’t let us pay for the repair. Kindness rocks.
With the tire fixed, the engines revved, Turkmenistan awaits.
July 27, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 14: It’s like a blessed mirage in the desert
If a fellow isn’t thankful for what he’s got, he isn’t likely to be thankful for what he’s going to get. — Frank A. Clark
As I set up my tent the words of the Kazakh man at the gas station (see Day 13 post) were ringing in my ears: “And bandits at night.” Yes. Kazakhstani bandits. With guns.
This was and is part of the charm of the Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile road trip from Britain to Ulan Bator, Mongolia, on which my co-driver, Steve Priovolos, and I departed two weeks ago. We had already made it farther than last year, when we were T-boned on Day 8 on a Romanian road and our car destroyed.
Now we were facing another kind of destruction. We had no choice but to stay in the desert; the road was impassable at night. It was practically impassable during the day. We decided to drive off into the desert as far away from the road as we could as a safety measure against the bandits.
When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, we settled in for the night, hoping the bandits wouldn’t find our little home. But we were also philosophical: If they were going to get us, then they would get us.
Morning broke. We survived the night unscathed. This was a good thing. Unfortunately what was not such a good thing was the road, which just kept getting worse. We drove nine more hours and eventually found our way through all the potholes.
Then something magical happened.
As we entered the city of Aktau in western Kazakhstan, we stumbled onto a Marriott hotel. This opportunity was just too good to pass up. Although a little pricey it was most definitely worth it. And we’re assuming there won’t be any bandits staying here. Pure bliss.
Mongol Rally, Day 13: Would Day 13 be our unluckiest yet?
I was warned. I didn’t listen.
As I was leaving the Kazakhstani town of Atyrau (which used to be called Guryev), Steve Priovolos, my co-driver, and I stopped for gasoline. The car attracts a lot of attention, and people often want to chat. Most don’t speak English, and because we don’t speak Kazakhstani or Russian, communication is limited to hand signals and smiles.
At the gas station, I did encounter a chap who spoke English, and I ended up telling him of our impending drive to Turkmenistan as part of our 10,000-mile road trip called the Mongol Rally. When I finished telling him about the rally, which began July 14 in Britain and should end in less than four weeks in Ulan Bator, Mongolia, I could tell by the look on his face he was worried. His parting words were: “Driving road to Turkmenistan bad. Lots holes. And bandits at night.”
I had just come from the Kazakhstani border town with Russia and experienced bad roads, so I was confident I knew what bad was. I also had set out early enough not to be anywhere near the road at night. Bandits didn’t worry me. I thanked him and drove off and into a mini-nightmare.
The first few hundred miles were pleasant. No bandits and a few camels were our only companions. Then the road ended. Or I should say the good road ended. There was a road, and it went on, but it wasn’t good. Then a detour sign took us to a dusty potholed catastrophe. At first, I thought this was simply a short diversion. Wrong. The road — and I use the word charitably — lasted more than 150 miles and was a death trap. The only fools on this road were truck drivers (who had to be on it) and, of course, us.
There was no way were going to reach our destination. This meant we would have to stay the night in the desert. There are no Holiday Inns on this stretch of road. But supposedly there are bandits.
July 25, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 12: Playing dumb is the smart thing to do
The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn. –David Russell
The Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile journey from Britain to Mongolia, is a road trip, for heaven’s sake. So far, I’ve gotten acquainted with the the Ukrainian police (50 euro, about $62, fine for speeding) and the Ukrainian police again(I evaded them). I didn’t meet the Russian police, although I had laid in a store of vodka in case I did. Now my co-driver, Steve, and I were getting ready to cross into Kazakhstan, where the police apparently were very eager to get acquainted.
But I had my own self-help guru with me, a fellow rallier named Simon. I had met Simon a few hours earlier at a ramshackle bridge in Russia used to cross the Volga river. The bridge was practically sinking. Fortunately we managed to cross safely into Kazakhstan together. Then both of us were pulled over, apparently for going through a stop sign.
As we walked into the police station, I was mentally preparing to barter for freedom. Simon was smarter. The policeman didn’t speak much English, but he did say we should give him a surprise. I took this to mean cash. I looked at Simon and said, “Let’s give him what he wants.”
Simon ignored me. His strategy was to insist he had no idea what the policeman was saying. I was ready to give in, but Simon continued with his plan. The policeman gave up and waved us on our way.
As we walked out of the station Simon told me that it’s not unusual to give the police what you think they want and then get arrested for bribery. Thanks to Simon I am not in a cell. Lesson learned.
July 24, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 11: Photo etiquette in Russia? Who knew?
The trouble with using experience as a guide is that the final exam often comes first and then the lesson. –Author unknown
Have you ever been menaced by Russian Gypsy women? No? The same can’t be said of me, I am afraid.
One encounters all sorts of interesting folks on the Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile road trip that my co-driver, Steve Priovolos, and I have undertaken. We left July 14 from Britain; we hope to make it to Ulan Bator, Mongolia, in about five weeks. In doing so, we will, we hope, be able to donate one book (to FirstBook.org) for every mile we travel; if we make 10,000 miles–and we are determined to do so–we donate 10,000 books that to go underprivileged children.
A few hours after we crossed into Russia from Ukraine on Tuesday, I stopped at a crossing as the train screeched by. Three women started harassing people for money. When it was my turn, I was polite and told them I had no money. Eventually they got the message and left me alone.
As they went to a car in front of me I made the fateful mistake of taking a picture of them. Steve tried to warn me of the perils of clandestine picture-taking. My first mistake was to ignore him. My second mistake was not to shut the window when they saw me. They swarmed around the car and started screaming. I couldn’t understand a word, but I could understand they were agitated.
One of them tried to grab my iPhone (which I had used to take the picture), and the other tried to take the keys out of the ignition. My only option seemed to be to give them something to calm them down; 200 rubles, about $6, seemed to do the trick. They left me alone but continued to speak harshly to me. I’d venture a guess and say they were swearing, but that’s just a guess.
With the Gypsy fight in my rear view mirror we continued our journey through Russia. On Wednesday we will be driving to the Kazakhstan border. Time flies when you’re being screamed at by Gypsies.
Mongol Rally, Day 10: Craziness is in the eye of the beholder
“I believe in getting into hot water; it keeps you clean.” — G. K. Chesterton
The farther east I go, the nearer I am to starting the real adventures of the Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile road trip from Britain to Ulan Bator, Mongolia. Western Europe is so very passe, it seems, for the adventure crowd. At least that’s what the Mongol rally head honchos kept telling me. “Wait till you get to Kazakhstan, mate,” one chap told me. “Then you will see some true craziness.”
I wonder whether this chap has ever been to eastern Ukraine. I wonder whether he has ever driven on an eastern Ukrainian road. Driving a Ukrainian road is an adventure in itself, and that’s a good 800 miles from Kazakhstan.
I just spent 12 hours on quite a few of those roads. First, the drivers are — how do I put this diplomatically? — slightly nuts.I saw multiple near-misses on Monday. Drivers overtaking drivers on blind bends. Drivers swerving in front of oncoming traffic. Drivers doing nearly catastrophic things to each other and themselves.
Potholes — hundreds of them — add to the mayhem. If you thought the 405 was bad, you ain’t seen nothing till you have taken the E-40 in eastern Ukraine.
The good news is that I managed to safely navigate my way past the drivers, the potholes and the ever-present Ukrainian police. The bad news is that the hotel I am staying in (35 miles from the Russian border) has no running water and the bathroom comes equipped with cockroaches. The beds don’t have sheets and the walls are pockmarked with fist-sized holes. It looks as though someone had a session of anger management therapy in Room 212.
The next hurdle is to try to cross the Russian border. I don’t seem to do well with authority figures in this part of the world. Perhaps, as the above video suggests, I have a way to placate the authorities.
July 22, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 9: Putting memories to rest in Chernobyl
“I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious.” –Albert Einstein
I vividly remember the day in 1986 when the Chernobylnuclear reactor exploded. I was 9. My next-door neighbor came rushing in holding a newspaper aloft, telling me of the disaster in the Ukraine and the impending doom — a radioactive cloud — heading toward London. I was petrified.
I rushed to my mother and asked when the cloud was coming and how were we going to escape. She reassured me that the accident was too far away to affect us. The memory never left me. Since that day I have always had this urge to visit Chernobyl. The name still sends tingles down my spine.
On Sunday I got my chance when Steve Priovolos and I stopped on our drive from Britain to Ulan Bator, Mongolia, as part of the 10,000-mile Mongol Rally. The rally began July 14 and is expected to last five weeks.
Chernobyl is a surreal place. There is an 18-mile exclusion zone where no one is allowed — except for a small cadre of workers and tourists like me, who are too curious for their own good.
Chernobyl is a ghost town. Nature has taken over. Derelict buildings are everywhere. Remnants of lives, which used to fill the squares of this Soviet bastion, are evident. Women’s shoes. Children’s dolls. Shopping carts. Memories of a way of life extinguished.
My guide gave Steve and me a Geiger counter that showed us the radiation levels. He also assured us that everything was safe. The Geiger counter begged to differ. At times it went above 8.0. A safe level is 0.30. Not very reassuring.
When it was time to leave we had to pass through two separate radiation meters. These Soviet-era-looking machines checked whether we had been contaminated. Any contaminated item would be left behind or decontaminated. This included humans.
Luckily we were all radiation-free.
July 21, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 8: Trouble takes a break — maybe
The mechanic wasn’t convinced that the car had a problem, but after a test drive, he heard the noise fixed it. (Leon Logothetis / July 21, 2012)
“You can’t run away from trouble. There ain’t no place that far.” –Uncle Remus
Some say I began my traveling as a way of running from my problems. I certainly had some of them. These chaps have a point. I can’t, however, seem to run away from trouble. It follows me as I meander my way through the vastness of two continents on this 10,000-mile road rally from Britain to Ulan Bator, Mongolia. The Mongol Rally, which began a week ago, has a way of bringing trouble to your doorstep.Today I tried to save the life of my car: my beloved Daihatsu Terrios, whose only job is to get my co-driver, Steve Priovolos, and me to Mongolia. It is a heavy burden, I know. But a burden that I am convinced the little car that could will achieve.
I was not quite as certain this afternoon.
I found my way to a Ukrainian mechanic and realized the first problem: No one spoke English. I resolved this by walking through the streets asking people if they spoke the Queen’s English. Most didn’t. One did. His name is Eugeny, and he was my angel on this sun-drenched day.
With Eugeny in tow I went back to the mechanics and the translation began. Then the waiting started. Then my blood pressure soared as mechanic Anatoly couldn’t find the problem. I assured Eugeny there was a problem. Eugeny relayed the message.
Anatoly looked unconvinced. If he couldn’t find the problem, then there wasn’t one. But there was a problem and I could prove it.
I took my two new Ukrainian chums on a test drive so that Anatoly could hear for himself what I had been hearing the past 1,400 miles. Two sounds. One worse than the other, both coming from the right side of the car. Fortunately he heard them and said, “Problem, yes.”
I took this as confirmation that he was now on board with Operation Save Leon’s Car. We arrived back at the mechanic’s, and he set off to work. Within two hours he had fixed it. It seems that the brake pads were missing some important screws. We took the car for another spin. No noises. Success.
With this good news, it was time to prepare for Sunday’s trip to Chernobyl. I can always find trouble somewhere along this crazy journey.
July 20, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 7: Next stop in Ukraine? Trouble
“The best car safety device is a rear-view mirror with a cop in it.” –Dudley Moore
Lightning doesn’t strike twice, although if you’re in Ukraine it just might.
You’d think I’d learned my lesson after Thursday’s near-miss with a Ukranian prison cell. (I wonder what my friend the Ukranian policeman is doing with my 50 euro fine.)
From this encounter, I learned again that speeding is bad. This is a good thing to know on a 10,000-mile road trip called the Mongol Rally that started Saturday in Britain and ends in about five weeks at Ulan Bator, Mongolia. Speeding also happens to be a crime in most countries, except maybe Germany where we have the autobahn. After getting a ticket on Thursday, surely I would behave myself on Friday. I didn’t.
This time, however, I had a plan. As I was driving (not that much over the limit, so I did learn something), a policeman waved at me to stop. Earlier in the day I had seen another car fail to stop and continue driving. The police didn’t follow. So I kept on driving and evaded capture by a second Ukrainian policeman. Luckily he didn’t give chase and I finally decided that it was time to slow down.
As retribution, I suspect, for not stopping, I may be stopping for longer than I like. The loud sound that hampered my journey a few days ago came back with a vengeance — only now it is “sounds,” plural, one rattling, one clanking, both under the car, both worrisome. The car limped into Kiev.
On Saturday morning, instead of sipping coffee and reading the paper, I’ll have to find an auto mechanic because I can’t continue the rally. The original plan was to visit Chernobyl. That will have to wait.
