Words fail me. I have never seen a city like this. Once a forgotten Soviet backwater, destroyed in an earthquake in 1948, the capital has risen like a phoenix out of the desert since independence. The late president Niyazov--who was one of the last great Asian personality cult figures--had an obssesion with town planning. Hey, what else can you do when all of a sudden you're given your own country and city to do whatever you want with. Start with renaming the month of January and April after your mother and self, for starters. And of course, you need your own self-written book of spirituality, much like Mao's red book or Gaddafi's green book. Anyway, stupendous marble buildings--ministries, museums, libraries--pop up over a vast expanse of desert--and all make Caesar's Palace and the Bellagio look tawdry and amateur.
My hotel is 10 minutes away in Berenzi, an absolutely bizaare strip of what looks like small mansions that are hotels holding less than 20 rooms and that appear empty of guests. I walk down to one hotel for its famed Italian restaurant. I ask the girl at reception where the restaurant is, and she turns on the light in a room. Sure enough, the tables are beautifully set, and everything offered on the menu is available, and it's delicious, but no one is there. I ask if guests will come and she laughs. I walk back; it's 10 at night. Wide boulevards are devoid of cars. Buildings are lit up down the entire street, but there's practically no one out. It is just too weird. Why there's more people out in Aliso Viejo, for God's sake.
I must back up a day. The drive from Turkmenbashi to Ashgabat takes several hours--bumpy road, but mainly camels in the way.
Just one of hundreds out here.
The Paraw Bibi Shrine. A must for women seeking help for fertility. This shrine is ancient and pre-Islamic, a reminder of the animist, ancestral traditions that still exist.
Suparmarat Niyazov aka the Great Turkmenbashi, his final resting place.
The Great Turkmenbashi adorns the top of a tower. He rotates to face the sun during the day. Never heard of skin cancer, I guess.
The Paraw Bibi Shrine. A must for women seeking help for fertility. This shrine is ancient and pre-Islamic, a reminder of the animist, ancestral traditions that still exist.
Suparmarat Niyazov aka the Great Turkmenbashi, his final resting place.
The Great Turkmenbashi adorns the top of a tower. He rotates to face the sun during the day. Never heard of skin cancer, I guess.
A small sampling of the over-the-top marble buildings spread over the desert.
2 comments:
Hey, Pam, great trip! Really like your photos and commentary. Man, I'm still trying to put together my Irish photos. The blog is the way to go! Happy trails! George
Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice. I love changing renaming months after yourself and family members---This sounds like that old British TV show, The Prisoner.
Love the photos and the captions---it really helps to get a view of what you're describing.
tu querida amiga
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