Writing this post about my travels in Tajikistan, I didn’t really follow exact dates, so many of these posts are backdated, however the months are correct. Long trips and long distances were never planned in advance. I actually ended up in Tajikistan unexpectedly because I hadn’t even heard of this country until I arrived in Central Asia. I decided to come here after hearing a few travelers talk about it, especially the famous Pamir route they were planning to do.
While staying in a hostel in Panjakent, I heard other travelers were going to Iskanderkul Lake. I hadn’t planned anything, as usual. My loose idea was to explore Panjakent a little and then continue to Dushanbe, the capital, since many people said that’s where the Pamir journey begins. Even though I didn’t think I was going to do the Pamir route, partly because organized tours were over my budget, and partly because sharing a car for almost two weeks with 3-4 other tourists/traveler I just met sounds like a situation I would usually avoid in my normal life. Traveling by hitchhiking or cycling also seemed nearly impossible given the rural, secluded mountains. (Anyway, for the Pamir journey, I’ll save that adventure for another post.)
Deep inside, I was still hoping I could somehow see Iskanderkul Lake. I had done a bit of research the night before after hearing the others were going there. The lake is nestled deep within the Mountains. I thought I’d give it some time, hoping to catch a ride to the lake, but if not, I would go to Dushanbe directly. The next day, before noon, I left the hostel with no real plan, just trusting the day.
I hitchhiked for a couple of hours until I reached a junction where the road split toward the lake or Dushanbe. After about half an hour of waiting, I managed to catch another ride, he was heading toward Iskanderkul Lake. The driver later introduced himself as a police officer, although he wasn’t wearing a uniform. He was very talkative and constantly wanted to communicate. Since he couldn’t speak English and I couldn't speak his language, we had to use Google Translate on the phone, which after a while became exhausting, there were so much typing and passing back and forth. He told me he had two kids. After about an hour of driving, he said he wanted me to stay with him and be his wife. Meeting these types of men during my trip had become common after months of traveling, there were no surprises for me anymore. I politely refused and asked about his wife. He showed me photos of her grave. The conversation became harder to escape, so I tried to focus on the mountain views outside the window. After a while, he still kept insisting. His tone changed, to impatient and slighty pushy. He said I should at least kiss him on the lips. I refused. Even though he couldn’t speak English, he still managed to say “100 dollars” if I wouldn’t kiss him. I refused again.
He then said he would drop me at the bottom of the mountain only unless he got a kiss, he added that the sun would set soon, there would be no cars, it would be cold, and winter was approaching in Tajikistan (I know I didn't come here at the best time of the year). He said he would not drive me up into the mountains. Maybe he was telling the truth and trying to scare me. I had no tent and no proper winter clothing, but I still chose to get out of the car. He dropped me off. From the driver seat he looked at me seemed disbelieving, he said something again but I kept walking, and he turned his car around and left.
There were no houses, no shops, and no cars, just the base of the mountain, a bridge ahead of me and silence. My mind went blank. I didn’t know what my plan was. The only thing I could do was start walking up the road, there was really no other choice since I had come this far into the secluded area, even though it might take the whole day to go up, I know I won't make it by walking. I had no accommodation booked. I only knew there might be guesthouses somewhere in the mountains, according to what another traveler told me in the previous hostel.
So I walked and continued across a long bridge. The first car I saw passed about just five minutes later! It was full and didn’t stop. They probably gave me a weird look, thinking about what I was doing there alone, but seeing them gave me a bit of hope.. About ten minutes later, another car appeared. Normally, I feel shy hitchhiking, but not this time, I was desperate. I quickly raised my thumb.
The car stopped. The driver was a middle aged man; he looked back at the woman sitting behind him as if asking for permission. After a short exchange, they welcomed me in. That moment felt like the mountain itself exhaled. I was tired, scared, stubborn, and relieved, all at once. Travel isn’t always pretty pictures and smooth plans. Sometimes it is uncertainty, boundary setting, danger, kindness from strangers, and your own legs carrying you forward when you don’t know what else to do. Even on that rough day, I realized something simple: I am still happiest out here, wandering, learning, getting surprised by life, and somehow finding my way even when I’m bad at navigation.
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