It is now 3am and I have been in airports or flying for the last 30 hours. I have survived the additional security measures for Chinese flights in and out of Urumqi which reflects the Chinese unofficial war with the Uigher minority there. I am sleepy and irritable and grateful that the middle aged guy stting next to me speaks no English. I will eat anything that vaguely resembles food on the meal tray have a glass of red and hopefully drift off to sleep for a couple of hours on this short 4 hour flight to Ashgabat, the capitol of my first Stan.
As the meal comes the guy beside me comes to life points to himself and says “Juma”. I respond in kind with “Peter” and he grins broadly and says “Pizza” Great! As I shake the big bear paw mitts of his I figure that the conversation will be stillborn as he speaks no English. How wrong can I be! He nexts asks me “American?” When I respond with “Australia” he clearly has no idea. I figure it is the language barrier so I try my best Julia Gillard pronounciation and it is no use. At that point he taps his mates in front of us on the shoulder and I am introduced as “Pizza” to my new best friends Dara and Ali. A conversation in Turkmen betweeen the 3 ensues and Dura is convinced I am from Austria! When I shake my head Juma next to me asks “Euro?” I say dollar but now I think he thinks I am American again.
The meal is over and Juma points at my wine. He motions to me to drink up and says vodka, with an evil smile on his face. At that point a duty free litre is produced from in front of us and it suddenly becomes party time. Those who know me will know that I find vodka boring, neutral and bland but I humour him as I am sure the flight attendants will put a stop to it anyway. Wrong again. They not only turn a blind eye, they supply tomato juice and fresh tomatoes to wash the vodka down with.
The bottle comes round after my first generous shot. When I decline he says “chut chut” which I have since found out means a little more and I am topped up. One thing I will say about Vodka, drink a shot and you will smile, I guarantee it and so I found myself smiling and decided to try and nail the issue of my nationality for him once and for all! When in doubt overseas a reliable standby is to say kangaroo, even with appropriate arm motions and even a hop. No way this time, I draw another blank look.
Then on my third shot of vodka I have it! Pull out the airline book to the pages where it shows you their routes. There on the map of the world I proudly point to Australia! He looks amazed and points to the dot that says Melbourne. I give him the big thumbs up!
I lost count but between the four of us that bottle of Vodka disappeared. I drifted off to sleep and next awoke just minutes before landing to the screaming pain of ears that needed to be equalised. Despite the vodka my anxiety levels were high as I present my LOI to get the visa. Amazingly after being relieved of $107 in visa fees it was a quick stamp in the passport and I am through. The luggage arrives and as I stroll past the customs man he asks me where I am from. When I say Australia he immediately replies “Kangaroo” and waves me through with a broad smile.