Back in Khorog, via the border town of Ishkashim

In the morning we had breakfast and then settled up for our room and board. Aydar asked 50 somoni but was open to negotiation. Meggy thought this was a bit much, but given that official homestays cost that much for a bed and breakfast alone, I thought his price was quite fair, especially given that we each had our own room and there was a western toilet... and especially since it had been a rough year for tourism with the region closed for tourists for most of the peak season.

We ended up paying 50, and Aydar helped us find a ride into Ishkashim. There's a fort near Ishkashim, on a hill between the road and the Pyanj river, which many tourists stop at and which is somewhat known for being frequently occupied by Tajik border guards who don't take kindly to unannounced visitors, but since we weren't in a private car we didn't stop. Most of the excitement involved in stopping at this fort seems to center on interacting with the border guards, anyway, so I don't think it was any big loss.

Once we alighted in Ishkashim we first headed west of town to the location of the cross-border Saturday market to confirm it wasn't being held, then came back into town and explored the regular, daily market. The market was pretty basic, but we picked up some fruit and snacks. Ishkashim seemed like a pretty basic town, and in 2012 there were somewhat surprisingly no real places to stay there, even though it was the jumping-off place for exploring the Afghan Wakhan. And even though not a lot of tourists explore the Afghan side, there are plenty of traders and local who do cross over into Afghanistan (or vice-versa), so the lack of options is somewhat surprising.

West of Ishkashim, near the Saturday market, looking towards Afghanistan.

Cool bus stop. Does this mean they had proper bus services in the Soviet era?

More Lenin, with some of Rahmon's words of wisdom on the walls behind.

Interesting construction techniques: concrete supports on the lower level, stone walls, and rough wooden logs as floor and ceiling supports.

Building new shops in Ishkashim's market area.

Strange happenings on the ride from Ishkashim to Khorog

We managed to find a car heading back to Khorog without too much difficulty. All of the other people in the SUV were young guys in their twenties, and out bags were stuffed in the back.

As we left town, we made a brief stop at a farmhouse just outside Ishkashim. These kinds of stops to pick up passengers and cargo are pretty normal, but this was a bit different, as we stopped about 100 meters from the house and they didn't want us to get out. The driver and his friend headed inside, then a couple of minutes later they came running back to the car, jumped in, and we immediately sped out of there. This is all very strange, as you never see anyone running, and usually no one is in a rush to get into a car (even if the driving is often quite manic). The concern was amplified when one of the guys in the rear seat started stuffing things into someone's bag—we couldn't see what he had r where he was putting it, but something was going on. 

Meggy and I exchanged slightly concerned glances, and we were both a little apprehensive when we reached the checkpoint between Ishkashim and Khorog, as we were both thinking that possibly these guys had picked up (or stolen) some drugs or other contraband and put them in our bags to help smuggle them through security. It turned out we had no problems at the checkpoint and there was certainly nothing removed from our bags before we left, so while the circumstances around that little stop remained a mystery, it was likely much more innocuous than we imagined. Or maybe not. 

Anyway, during the post-checkpoint ride to Khorog, we talked a bit with some of the guys, and it turns out that a couple of them were Afghanis from Afghanistan's Ishkashim who were studying and living in Khorog. I was a little surprised to hear this, as I kind of figured that Tajikistan would make things difficult for foreigners (from poorer countries) who wanted to live and study in Tajikistan, but apparently it isn't that uncommon in the region.

Back in Khorog

In Khorog we were dropped off at the taxi lot, and then decided to head over to the botanical gardens for the afternoon. Meggy was going to stay with the family she had stayed with the last time she was in Khorog (she had met a woman on her car ride from Dushanbe, and the woman had invited her to stay with her), so she went there while I headed back to Lalmo's. We met a half hour later, and took a marshrutka to the botanical garden, which is on the east side of town on a bluff south of the river overlooking the town.

I'm not quite sure what your typical botanical garden looks like, and October probably isn't prime viewing season, but this garden seemed to be mostly trees, with a path winding through it and a few picnic areas. On the south edge of the garden, overlooking the valley below, there is a large and impressive European-style house (currently undergoing renovation)—this building doesn't really have anything to do with the garden, but is one of the President's residences.

Behind the President's house is an orchard full of regularly planted apple trees, which were full of fruit when we were there. There was some fruit on the ground, and many apples which could easily be knocked loose by shaking the tree or throwing sticks up at branches.

Khorog's botanical garden on the east edge of town. It's meant to be the second or third highest botanical garden in the world. It was pretty abandoned when we were there, but they had lots of trees full of ripe apples which we stocked up on.

After filling our pockets with apples, we returned to the President's house and headed down the grassy slope to the valley below, where we had spotted an interesting building near the river. It turned out to be a fancy chaikhana that was surrounded by a chain-link fence and locked up. I think it was used mainly during big events like Presidential visits and weddings. The guard came out to the entrance gate and after chatting with Meggy he let us in and gave us a brief tour of the exterior. It was impressive overkill: the sort of ostentatious but useless buildings you see being built in Dushanbe by people like Rahmon, and not the sort of functional infrastructure built in the Pamirs by the Aga Khan.

The ornate and little-used chaikhana.

The weather in Khorog was disappointingly grey and cool, which only served to remind us how lucky we had been with the brilliantly sunny and warm weather we had enjoyed for the last few days. When I got back to Lalmo's she said that she had forgot to ask me if I wanted to eat there that evening, and when I said I did (it was dark and I didn't want to head down into town to find the Delhi Darbar Indian restaurant, which is pretty much the default option for travelers in Khorog) she was kind of pressured to whip something up on short notice. Reminder: always let her know in advance if you want dinner, as if she has notice she can make pretty great stuff.

Speaking of food, while walking to Lalmo's, I had encountered a young boy who offered me some food. I declined, and in doing so I think I committed a serious faux pas. As I said earlier, the Afghan market and the borders with Afghanistan were closed at this time for Eid al-Adha, which commemorates the willingness of Ibrahim/Abraham to sacrifice his son for God/Allah. Today, Muslims who can afford to do so commemorate Ibrahim's sacrifice by sacrificing their best animal, which they then divide into three portions for themselves, their neighbours, and the needy—and that distribution of food is what the boy was doing when I turned him down. This sort of community spirit is something I love about Islam: their religious holidays are still very much about the community and the less fortunate, and taking care of them. Ramadan is all about depriving yourself of food so you can understand how the hungry feel every day, and breaking the fast is about inviting the community to share in your food. Now think of the largest Christian holidays and what they mean (or don't). It's because I found the philosophy behind Ramadan so appealing that I started to observe Ramadan in my early twenties: it's a holiday that makes sense, unlike my equally secular historical observation of Christmas.

Budget

October 27, from Yamg to Khorog: 157 somoni

• Taxi from Yamg to Ishkashim: 25 somoni
• Taxi from Ishkashim to Khorog: 60 somoni
• Room and dinner at Lalmo's: 72 somoni ($15)

Another day in paradise: Yamg, Vrang, Yamchun Fort, and Bibi Fatima hotsprings

Leaving Langar

On my second morning in the Wakhan we got ready to leave Langar, and Megi's language skills came in handy once again. It turned out that one of Yodgor's relatives would be heading down the valley later in the morning, so we arranged to have him pick us up from the side of the road as we started ahead of him.

It was only while we were leaving that we discussed money with Yodgor, and when we asked him how much we owed him, he suggested 30 somoni per night–including breakfast and dinner–but said that if we thought this was too much we should say so. This is a screaming deal compared to prevailing rates at tourist-board-affiliated homestays—which are around $10 (45 somoni at the time) for a place to sleep, with meals adding another $5-$7 per day—so I was perfectly happy with his prices... and happy to recommend him to anyone staying in Langar. Of course the facilities are a bit more basic than at more tourist-oriented homestays (expect breakfast to be the shir choi that is a staple of local diet—bits of old, hard bread mixed with back tea, milk, and butter), but Yodgor is friendly and honest.

Panorama of the Wakhan valley to the west of Langar.

Tajik car seat. Rather like a 1970's western car seat, except the kid is way cuter. The car was a Lada Niva, which is like a 4-wheel-drive version of a 1970s VW Golf/Rabbit—a model which has been in continuous production since 1977. Just about every old car is equipped with an mp3 player that accept tiny micro-SD cards, and it can be comical to be bumping along horrific roads in an ancient vehicle driven by a rough and tough local who starts fumbling with a tiny little memory card between his fat, callused fingers when he decides to switch up the music.

We were dropped off in the village of Vrang, which is notable mainly for a five-level stepped pyramid which is usually described as a Buddhist stupa, but which some think may originally have been a Zoroastrian fire-worship platform—it definitely doesn't look like any other Buddhist stupa you're likely to see. Regardless of its original purpose, the structure was used for Buddhist purposes at some point in its history, and their are monks' caves built into the stupa's foundation—and apparently there are more caves on the other side of the Pyanj in Afghanistan, where a monastery was also located.

We were dropped on the main road through Vrang, from which it is a short walk through the fields to the Buddhist or Zoroastrian stupa/pyramid on a salt-dome above the village.

A Pamiri girl in the fields.

As we walked through the village towards the pyramid which towers over the village, Megi and I were approached by a girl of perhaps twelve who offered to show us the way and guide us around the village. This sort of thing is very common in Southeast Asian countries like Cambodia and Burma, where there are kids at local temples and caves who will tag along and show you the path or point things out with their flashlights, all in the hope of getting a tip at the end. I didn't know if this was the same sort of setup, but I suspected it might be, especially since the Lonely Planet section on Langar indicated people would expect to be paid for guiding you to the petroglyphs there. That being the case, I largely left Megi and the girl to walk together and chat, which was relatively easy to do since could talk pretty easily in Tajik.

The best way to the pyramid is to curve around the base and enter from the side. This approach lets you take a look at the (inaccessible) Buddhist caves built into the pyramid's foundation, which you can see on the left.

Panorama from above the pyramid, with the ruins of an old fort above the pyramid.