Prologue – Go or Die

It seemed like our longest journey so far. After Lebanon, we already knew that the map would not be the only opponent. The many evenings, the local culinary pleasures, the inexplicable amount of meat and bread, friendships washed down with vodka, or simply the lack of sleep and the long, dusty roads — sooner or later something would demand its price. The body is not romantic. It does not care about the legend of the Silk Road or the beauty of blue domes. When it has had enough, it lets you know. And usually not gently.

We knew that Central Asian realism was not a theory. The question was not whether it would catch up with us, but when — and with whom it would begin. A poorly washed piece of fruit, an overly enthusiastic street kebab, a glass of water that is not quite the same as at home — and the balance is already gone. Sooner or later, someone is going to drop out.

But we also knew that the journey would be full of discoveries. Domes we had previously only seen in books, dusty cities layered with centuries of history, and stories that cannot be prearranged. If we are there, we cannot afford to be out of action for long. We have to keep moving as long as we can. Who knows when we will reach this remote, yet strangely central place again? This was not an easily repeatable weekend trip, but a once-in-a-lifetime commitment.

Maybe we would be exhausted. Maybe the body would protest. But curiosity was stronger. And sometimes it is better to accept uncertainty, dusty roads, and even a rebellious stomach than to stay home and only look at the map.

We had to go. As long as we could.