Overland Journal Day 53-56: Turkmenistan

How do we even begin to describe our journey through Turkmenistan? For a few days, we felt like we were in a surreal, alternate universe. Turkmenistan is, without a doubt, the most bizarre country we’ve ever visited. Imagine a land where paranoia under a dictatorship is palpable, where the capital city of Ashgabat gleams with white marble, and where a burning crater blazes in the heart of the desert. Each day in Turkmenistan brought a new surprise. One thing is certain: we will never forget this country.

The ‘Esteemed President’

Before we dive in, let’s set the scene. Turkmenistan is a closed dictatorship, often compared to North Korea. However, it’s not very well known, because there is hardly any coverage about the country in Western media. Turkmenistan became independent in 1991 after the Soviet Union’s breakup. The first “esteemed” president (as everyone’s supposed to call him), Saparmarut Niazov, ruled until his death in 2006. He named himself Turkmenbashy, meaning ‘leader of the Turkmen’.

Modesty was not in his vocabulary. He wrote a book that everyone in Turkmenistan had to read—and recite at numerous occasions, for example if they wanted a driver’s license. He built a giant statue of the book that read parts of the book aloud every night. The capital city boasts white marble and gold statues, palaces, and apartment buildings, including a golden statue of himself that rotates with the sun. He renamed a city after himself and the word “bread” and the month of April after his mother – the very impractical name Gurbansoltan. He banned playbacking, ballet, beards, and opera, and shut down all libraries and hospitals outside the capital. His successors have kept the same tight grip, with no political opposition or free press. The internet is heavily censored and slow, and social media is off-limits. The totalitarian state still rules Turkmenistan.

Mandatory Guide

Turkmenistan isn’t exactly a tourist hotspot—about 70% of the tourist visa applications are rejected without any explanation. But, in our typical adventurous fashion, we decided to give it a shot. And guess what? Our visas were actually approved! However, there’s a catch: you need a guide with you at all times, so forget about exploring freely. The only exception to this is if you travel with a transit visa, but those are even harder to get.

We arrived at the border slightly nervous as we didn’t know what to expect whatsoever. We had to cough up about $450 in cash just to enter. But before that, we drove through a bizarre disinfection pool to “clean” the car. Then, we had to map out our entire route for approval by a couple of stern-looking soldiers. Thankfully, our mandatory guide was waiting for us and expertly guided us through the bureaucratic maze. After about five hours of jumping through hoops, we were finally allowed into this strange, surreal country.

The White Marble City of Ashgabat

Our first stop was Ashgabat, the capital of Turkmenistan. From a distance, it appeared as a white blur in the middle of the desert. As we approached, this blur transformed into a jaw-dropping spectacle: an entire city shimmering with white marble and gold. Each building was an architectural marvel, and some were even designed to reflect its function—the Ministry of Education looked like an enormous book, the Ministry of Gas resembled a giant lighter, and the airport took the shape of a bird in flight. Ashgabat holds the world record for the highest density of white marble buildings and boasts the largest indoor ferris wheel, the largest star-shaped building, the largest horse-shaped building, and the most fountains in a public space. This opulence is all funded by the country’s vast gas reserves. And, admittedly, three power-hungry dictators.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t drive our own car into the city center because it wasn’t white. Only white cars are allowed. So, we parked our non-compliant vehicle at the hotel and toured the city in our guide’s spotless white car. Everywhere we looked, everything was immaculate—even the lampposts were beautifully designed. But where were all the people?

Our hotel, with around 300 rooms, had only three cars parked in front of it. We wouldn’t have been surprised if the other two cars belonged to the undercover agents sitting in the lobby. The six-lane roads and vast plazas were eerily empty. When we arrived at the world’s largest indoor ferris wheel, it was turned on exclusively for us. It felt like we had stepped into a science fiction movie.

Exhausted and thoroughly bewildered, we retreated to our deserted hotel. Speaking freely was out of the question; the hotel, like all the others in the country, was government-owned and likely bugged. We couldn’t help but wonder, where on earth did we end up?

The Darwaza Gas Crater: ‘Gates of Hell’

Day two was just as surreal as the first. Leaving Ashgabat, we plunged into the vast expanse of the Karakum Desert, which blankets 70% of Turkmenistan. Outside the capital, civilization faded away, leaving us with nothing but sand and an unforgiving sun. The roads, relics from Khrushchev’s era, were practically non-existent—eroded by time and the desert winds, eventually turning into a dusty, jagged trail of crumbling asphalt. It was a bone-rattling journey, a stark reminder of the government’s neglect.

After hours of being jostled and bumped, we finally reached our destination: the Gates of Hell. This enormous, fiery crater has been burning since the 1960s-70s. The Soviets, in their quest for oil, stumbled upon a massive gas deposit. A drilling accident caused a gas bubble to explode, creating a gaping crater. To avoid an even bigger disaster, they set the escaping gas alight. Over 60 years later, it’s still blazing. Standing at the edge, watching the flames dance and feeling the intense heat, was an absurd and mesmerizing experience. Turkmenistan never fails to add a new entry to the “Never have I ever…” list.

Desert Roads

After spending the night in a yurt by the crater, we ventured back onto the desert roads. Remarkably, the roads deteriorated even further, transforming into muddy tracks due to the previous day’s downpour, riddled with gaping potholes and relentless bumps. Our car braved the treacherous terrain, but our backs were less resilient. The first 270 kilometers took us a grueling eight hours. Throughout the journey, the authorities frequently called our guide to check our location, noting our slower pace compared to the average crazy Turkmen driver. The feeling of constant surveillance was surreal. For us, it was a temporary inconvenience, but for the locals, it’s a daily reality. Living under such perpetual scrutiny is unimaginable.

Our next stop was the ancient ruins of Konye-Urgench, once the jewel of the Eastern Islamic Empire, later obliterated by the forces of Genghis Khan and Timurlane. We dined at an eerily abandoned restaurant, reserved solely for tourists. Any hopes of interacting with locals were dashed; you only see what the government wants you to see. However, we did spot someone wearing a Feyenoord (a Dutch football club) shirt. With the help of our interpreter, Marcel told him that he was an Ajax fan, loved Formula 1, and rode an “adventure bike.” More on that later…

Ghost Hotel

The final destination of our trip through the country was Dashoguz, the largest city in northern Turkmenistan. We checked into the grand, white marble Dashouz Hotel. This colossal structure, boasting hundreds of rooms, had again just a few cars parked outside. At the reception, a young Turkmen guest greeted us cheerfully: “I’m studying in Seoul! I’m back in Turkmenistan for a while. Where are you from? Oh, the Netherlands? I love Ajax. And Max Verstappen!” Coincidence? Not a chance. It was clear he was planted there, having already been briefed on the information we shared with the local guy wearing a Feyenoord shirt in the desert. In our room, we exchanged meaningful glances but didn’t dare speak. Only your thoughts are truly safe here.

Dinner was in the hotel’s cavernous, empty restaurant. A power outage completed the eerie experience. Outside, a storm raged, with lightning and rain adding to the haunted house ambiance. We finished our beers in the dark and headed back to our room, noting the massive waterfall in the stairwell from the leaking roof. Water cascaded directly into the electrical box. And all this for $120 a night, what else could you possibly want?

Freedom at Last

The next morning, our undercover friend joined us again, “coincidentally” entering the breakfast room just after us. He asked to sit with us and talked enthusiastically about his love for motorcycles, particularly “adventure bikes,” and his upcoming motorcycle trip. We were weary of the facade but nodded and smiled politely.

Before heading to the Uzbekistan border, we made a quick stop at the local bazaar—the first glimpse of local life we’d seen in our four days in the country. Our guide didn’t translate anything, and no one understood us, but being among people was a breath of fresh air. Behind the guide’s back, Marcel handed money to some kids who were obviously struggling.

Crossing into Uzbekistan, we felt a profound sense of relief. Finally, freedom (even though Uzbekistan isn’t the world’s freest country either). It’s heartbreaking to think the people of Turkmenistan might never feel this way. We will definitely never forget this place.

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