Ferry pics and some more

 

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The Caspian ferry

This boat had some differences with the one in the black sea. The first clear thing is the organization. Its impossible to know when the boat goes. The second is the boat itself, the structure. The previous was clearly made for the purpose of carrying vehicles. This one, although it had some dangerous train lines that went in with the purpose  to carry full train wagons, it doesn’t  seem to have much space for cargo as the previous. The boat seems significantly bigger, although this might be by the only reason that in this boat we are free to walk around, when in the other we were trapped in one of the floors.It was possible even to go to the engine rooms. All the gates were opened, even vertical doors where someone couldirectlly fall the the underground level.

The ferry seems a ghost boat. I went up and down and doesn’t seems to be much people on it. On the crew deck there are several empty rooms, some of them seemed to be destroyed. I counted 5 people on board as a crew members. A small lady with blue eyes who distribute the rooms, do the laundry, organize the eating schedules and keep our passports. Three people at the kitchen. The cargo responsible. An a man that walks around that call himself the security inspector. He make us stop playing golf (using a gas pipe and a beer bottle tap), he proudly told us also that thanks to him the bar was closed,” too many accidents occurred because of drunk track drivers”. He is the fun killer inspector that is for sure.

For the rest, it seems to be more rooms,  2 or 3 decks with plenty of them, but at the same time seems to be much less people, less truck drivers. It seems that us (the bikers and motorbikes) count as a quarter of the population. And now again, the gangs do not mix. Azerbaijani with Azerbaijani, Kazakhstani with Kazakhstani, Russian with Russian and finally adventurer with adventurer.

The rooms are also significantly smaller and are not provided with toiled. As a fun fact, the toilet works as in a plane with negative pressure. And as a fun fact someone didn’t respect the rules and throw a piece of something into the toilet before leaving. So at 8 am the whole boat was soaked in shit.

The real gate

I was really surprised about the car. Quite amazed, and legitimately pissed off. An Audi with leather seats?. They said we could go two bikes and two persons in it. But how the hell if the seats won’t even fold. Our friend Narmin, also surprised, called to arrange other means of transportation. But well, we had a car and a driver, so to look for a new one would take more time and surprises. In Spanish we said, is better to have a known enemy that an unknown friend. So the bikes were on the trunk and half way out, the wind had 80 km/h blowing from the north/west and we were sorttering the traffic south. It was not a sand storm, but was definitely quite similar. The sand did not let us see the oil pumps on the middle of the fields. The trunk as a whale opened mouth was swallowing the sand as if it would be plankton.

After 70 km we arrived to the cargo port, our destination, and the bikes were almost ok.

We knew that the boat was not going to leave, the storm was slowly getting worst up to the maximum speed winds at 4 am. What to do? May be they suddenly decide starting loading the boat in the middle of the night to leave early morning. We knew that some ferries were there, the radar said so. We knew the wind was going down in 18 hours, and we knew that some people was already waiting there, and there it was what we exactly expected. On the parking lot and behind of the custom police building other adventures were hidden from the sand and the wind, about 5 more bikes (French, Polish, English, German) and about the same motos with the same nationalities. Some of them were waiting here for the last 4 days.  The parking and the border to exit the country into the sea had not much to see. Some construction containers in the middle of the desert. Most of them empty or simply looked, but the opened ones were useful for us. Small market, a tea bar, some dirty dirty toilets (what do truck drivers eat, I do not know, it looked like plasters of cement), a shower, the ticket office, a 2 m sqr weird bank with a suited guy with glasses  where we had to pay the boat ticket to get later the ticket from the ticket office, and nothing else. Enough to spend some days.

We sheltered to spend the night behind the only real building. There we eat and talk, shared experiences shared tips. At 10 pm we saw the lightning coming from the north west, and I decided to put my tent.

Next morning we played cricket with a piece of wood and my tennis ball until the security guys made us stop.

And then you wait, and then we all waited.

After a long process we finally boarded at 1 am, but the boat dint leave until next day 9 am.

 In the sea the sand and the wind didn’t hide the oil platforms, the ferry navigated around hundreds and hundreds of them.  Where is the caviar then?

Border pic

Kazahstan 

 

Caspian sea

Little raptorvelo over a boat over a boat in the caspian sea

So you wait

We are in a small dark hostel room. It doesn’t look at all as a hostel. Is a dark room inside a kind of Arabic chaotic backyard where different families live. The family with more  power or presence rent this room with 12 beds.  We are here just for one reason, the woman of the family has some contacts in the port which is located 70 Km from Baku.  Don’t get me wrong, is a nice place, is like leaving with a family, where the grandma wake you up every morning, because she wants to make sure we are good boys sleeping in our beds and not doing a mess. The doors are always open, we don’t have a key, it’s a complete trust. Sometimes other travelers, weird people (are we too?) spend one or two night to later disappear. As for example this two Iranians with a refugee’s letters doing questions about Europe, and also this Hungarian guy that tried to catch and retain all he could with his eyes. Where did they go? I do not know.

We been here almost for a week. Some days we believe we will leave to Kazakhstan, so some days we wake up and we rapidly pack our things. And then we wait and wait.  I feel like Capitan Benjamin L. Willard waiting for a mission. What do you do when have to be ready to run? You cannot go far, someone might call. Sometimes the telephone rings (first time 10 am in the day) and I look and wait for the woman’s face responses. I try to understand her Azerbaijani words. The language accentuation sounds beautiful, like if the sentences would finish with Chinese accentuation. Our pulse rise. We know that if we have a yes we have to run. She will book the tickets but we have to go pick them up. Later go back to the hostel, fold the bikes, take a taxi and jump down the road to what seems so far an imaginary port. Sometimes the raised excitation and the pure believe that today is going to be the day turns the answer in a complete frustration.

So you wait, so we wait.

And we kill the time. It might be another call between 1 and 3 pm.

I start by doing exercises in our small balcony. Sometimes the neighbor always ready with an smile when I say something to her in Russian walks over me while I do push ups. Later I study Russian. Pedr writes and listens to music. And when we are fed up we walk around.  We go to this small restaurant where we have good food for about 2 Euros. The owner know us, and always come to talk with us. Politics, politics, politics. What do you say in a country where is one say? “I do not speak politics in the table, your wife cooks really good” “is not my wife” “yes she is” “chai” “pashalusta”.  Now he get to know I speak German. “check” “vier manat bitte”. Sometimes when I am pissed about the wait and the country history, I go to this other cafeteria, where the coffee costs as much as the previous meal. Crazy countries. “Sir, do you want a 10 ticket card, last coffee will be for free” “no thanks I leave tomorrow”… I would be so dam close to a free coffee right now.

And no incoming call at afternoon

And then you wait, and then we wait.

And at night we go further away in the streets.

And at night its seems that we been here for eons. And we go for a drink and we know everybody in the bars. “Hey do you wanna come to an exposition tomorrow?” “No, we leave tomorrow” “I would like to do an interview about your trip” “ok we have to do it tonite, I leave tomorrow” “tomorrow we play in this other bar” “I would love to hear you playing the piano but I leave tomorrow”

And at the of the night, sometimes at the begging of the morning you have to come back, and almost in tears you have to say goodbye, because the clock is about the reset, the grandma will wake me up and at 10 the Capitan will call.

And then you wait, and then we wait.

Little Raptorvelo in Azerbaijan

Little Raptorvelo thinks that Caspian see mist be called Black see because is full of oil! Black waters! 

I almost been 2 months on the road. Slowly the occidental world has been left behind. The nice cars, big buildings, nice clothes banished. Not to talk about good roads. Slowly horses and cows started taking over the streets. 

But Baku is an Oasis.

Last week we been non stop on the road from Tibilisi. In the mountain nights wild animals stolen our garbage, luckily not out food. On the desert days snakes jumped into our pedals. Few water, no shower.

But getting across the city suburbs we started smelling the people perfumes. The donkeys hide some where and a F1 circuit surrounded the city. Lights blinded us as rabbits on a highway. Flames conquered towers, and a mix of cultures told us we are going farther away from home.

Baku is impressive, modern... a good mix between orient and occident. The gate to the desert opened to us.

Baku

 






 

Route from Rumania to Azerbaijan

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From Tbilisi to Baku