-Uzbekistan-

-Uzbekistan-


After a short relaxing glimmer of relaxation and recuperation in Shymkent, Kazakhstan; I was on my way to Uzbekistan. I ended up taking a marshutka (mini-bus, fixed route taxi)$2 to the Uzbek-Kazakh border, where I quickly unloaded my remaining Kazakh currency for Uzbek Som, and began my journey on foot into the unknown. I got pretty much destroyed on the exchange rate…….but I only had about $2 worth of Kazakh currency, so I didn’t lose much sleep over it. Getting past the money changers and border vendors proved to be both painful and challenging. Their persistence and fervor was difficult to break. I literally had to rip their hands off me and dodge them like a basketball player charging the lane.

I eventually made it past the feisty scavengers and unto the scruffy, rosy cheeked border guards and the border’s lingering soviet bureaucracy. After getting past the first two check points, that involved a thorough search, and thorough questioning……..mostly fueled by the guards’ curiosity, rather than their security interests. I made it through to the final checkpoint, where I hit an almost impenetrable snag. Apparently I was supposed to register my visa with immigration police within 5 days of entering Kazakhstan. It is not that I was unaware of this rule, it is just that I felt a bit cocky and above the law,…….and somehow felt that I would easily sneak through the border without repercussions. Probably not the greatest move in hindsight.

I was a stamp away from making it through the border, but I was missing important registration papers. The friendly young border guard explained to me in Russian that I must go back to the immigration police and sort out my little problem. –This undoubtedly would result in the imposition of the known and feared $80-150 fine for not registering.

My strategy was to smile, plead ignorance, and to downplay my Russian language proficiency by turning the simple situation into a complicated headache that the border guards would be reluctant to follow through with. As the guards explained to me the problem with my passport, and pointed toward the immigration office…….I simply smiled and said “ Mozhna Tashkent, Poshoulstva”(may I, Tashkent Please). I repeated this phrase over and over again, while calmly smiling and pleasantly ignoring their requests, through staged ignorance and misunderstanding. After about 20 minutes of these shenanigans, the main border guard smiled at me, and said in English……. “Lakka, I like you”…..He stamped my passport and sent me on my way.

I walked through the final gate smiling ear to ear, and relieved to have gotten through that potential disaster with my pocket book intact.

It was about 4:30pm and freezing cold in Uzbekistan….my cheap cotton gloves were beginning to fray at the fingertips, exposing my fingers to the harshly cold winter weather. I was forced to constantly shelter my hands in my coat; otherwise my exposed fingers would go painfully numb almost immediately after exposure. I mention this only because of how difficult it was for me to fill out the 2 customs forms at the Uzbek border. I found it to be significantly challenging to legibly write in the forms’ small boxes, while my fingers felt like unfamiliar prosthetics( I was actually forced to rewrite one of the forms because my handwriting was so poor).

At around 5:30pm………I had made it into Uzbekistan, I walked about a mile past the border and flagged down a marshutka that took me into the center of Tashkent (30cents).

Tashkent looked very Soviet and familiar at first glance, crumbling block apartments, gaudy monuments, and streets filled with rusty Lada’s (soviet cars). The Uzbek people seemed to have predominant Turk, and Persian physical features, unlike their Kazakh neighbors who seamed to get their genetics from the Mongols.

After the short marshutka ride to the center of Tashkent, I hopped on the metro-line and made my way to Pushkin station; where I solicited a telephone from a stranger, and contacted my host Aibek to retrieve me.

My Host Aibek is a ridiculously well traveled 28-year-old, with a thirst for adventure, and a persistent drive for success and life experience. He lives with his cousins Ulebek, and Mohammad Ali. My hosts have proven to be excessively hospitable, warm, kind, and wonderful Uzbek educators (I being the pupil).

Before I get sucked into writing a bland, hypnotic, and less than entertaining play by play of my time spent in Uzbekistan; I will attempt to cut away, and to dive into a few of the more interesting aspects and abnormalities of Uzbekistan and its culture.

The Subway:

- Like many soviet subway systems I have thus far visited; the Tashkent subway is extensive, proficient, simple, cheap, and a highly reliable. However the differences in it’s appearance are quite vast and substantial.

While most soviet era metro systems tend to incorporate a depressingly stale and unenthusiastic concoction of concrete, steel, peeling brown and yellow paint, rust, darkness, and cold shadows. Tashkent’s metro system has absorbed an essence of virility and life, by representing brilliant architectural design filled with brightness, creativity, life, and pride.

Each Metro station is designed in a completely unique and different way. The highly diverse and creative underground bunkers (the metro system was designed by the soviets to double as a nuclear shelter) are kept in immaculate condition, and heavily guarded by overly conscientious police officers. The diversity and complexity of each metro station is considerable and undoubtedly unique and superior to its former soviet counterparts.

My favorite of these stations would be the cliché choice: Prospect-Kosmonovtov Station
The Kosmonovtov station, dedicated to Soviet astronauts, looks like an artsy space exhibit in a museum of science. Each support column is surrounded by black ruffled glass, The central ceiling has a creative cloud like array of staggered black material, the walls are neatly accompanied by large blue and grey plates with sparkling space murals painted on them……….I find it difficult to adequately explain how interesting, unique and strange this subway station is, and unfortunately a photo was out of the question.

The cops guarding these metro stations are quite vigilant; I have yet to make it through any Tashkent metro stations without showing my documents and being subject to a standard interrogation and search. The one time I attempted to take photos of a metro station….did not go over so well, they spotted me immediately, and were in my face before I was able to snap my first shot.

A walk in the Park:

-One day in Tashkent while Ulebek and I were wandering around ‘Independence Square’, we stumbled across a handful of cops partaking in some rather uncharacteristic activities. I was taking a picture of a large brass monument(apparently the new monument is sitting on the spot that once hosted the largest Lenin statue in the Soviet union), when suddenly I was interrupted and startled by a serious of loud, seemingly nearby, gun blasts. I was in the central park that lies between the senate and a series of government buildings. After a visual investigation of the situation; I witnessed a couple groups of cops drifting around the park, monuments, and buildings holding shotguns. To my astonishment and surprise they were actually firing their guns right there in the park. It was hilarious! These cops were wandering the neatly landscaped park laughing and having a good time, while shooting crows both on the ground and in the air. Anyways…….perhaps this is not the greatest written story……but I thoroughly enjoyed the strangeness and peculiarity of the situation. It makes me laugh to imagine the reaction of Americans, if they were to witness a crew of city cops wandering around a public park in DC casually shooting birds with large shotguns.

Uzbek food:

-I have had the opportunity to share several wonderful meals with graciously hospitable Uzbeks. And have had the honor, and pleasure to have been invited to a few formal dinner parties with Uzbek families. One in particular was at Aibek’s uncle’s home. We all sat on the floor around a large rectangle table and enjoyed a wonderful feast of traditional Uzbek food and deserts. Aibek and I were served our own large plate of ‘plov’(Uzbek national dish: pleasantly greasy rice dish with vegetables and topped with various meat). This particular evening the giant dish of plov we were served, was topped with large chunks of horse meat. I can’t say I really enjoy the taste of horse meat. Perhaps it is because the flavor and texture is so unique and foreign to me. The dark brown, dense, salty, tart tasting meat, had a strange consistency and lingering aftertaste that I was definitely not accustomed to. Horse meat is actually a bit of a delicacy these days because in Central Asia it is currently much more expensive than lamb or beef. It is also considered a ‘Mans Man’ meat. Horse meat has a dense texture,…….and carries the opinion that it creates manly strength and helps build muscle.

Aibek informed me that we were literally expected to finish the entire plate, otherwise it would be considered an insult to our host……….So consequently, I ended up choking down far to much horse meat than desired.

That night we also were served two types of Russian caviar………..it was hilarious to watch the little boy seated next to me sneaking bites from my plate of caviar. I was surprised the kid enjoyed the taste; he has much more sophisticated and expensive taste than I. Later that evening I burped in my mouth, and was immediately consumed by an unpleasantly pungent flavor combination of salty horse meat and strong caviar.

Most of the ethnically Uzbek dishes I have eaten in Uzbekistan have consisted potatoes, meat, various herbs, and have been served with nan bread ( traditional round bread with decorations punched in the middle).

Ohh………..and there was the Camel Milk. The strange thing about camel milk is that it ferments almost immediately. Aibek presented me with a bottle of day old camel milk (literally straight from the camel) stored in a Pepsi bottle. We had to undo the bottle cap slowly, as if the milk were carbonated,(which it pretty much was). The milk had an alcohol content of a bit more than 3%, and tasted like salty sour milk with a kick. It gives your mouth the strange acidic tingle that you get from fresh wine. Overall I would say that camel milk is quite good. I found it to be a bit challenging to get over the fact that it was produced by a camel, but all in all it was quite tasty.

Transportation:

I hate the transportation in this country!!!!!!!!!(Buses that is, I hear trains are nice here) It is a real pain in the ass, and horribly unpleasant.

From Tashkent I took a bus to Samarkand…..but was dropped off about 50km from Samarkand, and then told to get onto a muddy, crowded marshutka………About 45 minutes later I was dropped off on the edge of the highway,…about 10km from Samarkand……..not that this was unusual or horribly inconvenient, but still it would have been nice to have taken a bus directly from Tashkent to Samarkand.

To Bukhara: I found a private bus that was taking people from the far edge of Samarkand to Bukhara. This particular bus was an absolute shit box………..The bus was completely full, and surrounded by about 20 people still yelling, and crowding the door. I had given up hope of boarding the packed out bus, when the driver signaled for me to come aboard. With skepticism and hesitation, I approached the driver and firmly told him I would not buy a ticket unless I was assured a seat;……with a spot of resentment, he agreed. The bus assistant, a chubby, scruffy looking, gold toothed gentleman, rockin a fur hat, sold each person waiting out side the bus tickets. He then proceeded to load them all onto the bus like cattle. I was shocked, I have no idea how this guy was able to fit everyone on the bus; a circus sideshow would have trouble fitting more bodies onto this bus.

The guy casually tried to herd me onto the bus with the crowd, but I harshly stared him down and adamantly insisted that I be given a seat. So after we were all boarded, I ended up sharing the fold out seat next to the driver with 4 other people. I had the far right 5inches, and the bus assistant had the crack between me and the bus door,……….. he was pretty much in my lap the entire time. It really sucked!

Even though we were at full occupancy (literally), the bus kept stopping along the road and picking up more people and their luggage. It was ridiculous, horribly awkward, and uncomfortable. The icing on the cake was the fact that the bus door was fragile, and barely functional. This piece of equipment proved to be near fatal for the bus assistant……..Honestly, the guy almost fell out of the bus three times! Each time the door swung open, I would dig my feet into the crevice in front of me as an anchor, bear hug the guy, and yank him back into the bus with all my strength………and after each time, the guy looked at me as if I were over amplifying the situation, and that he would be perfectly fine without me,…it was strange.

Anyways…….the bus ride was an absolute disaster, filled with uncomfortable conversations and strange interactions with people I would prefer to ignore. Example being when the bus assistant forced me to share my head phones(he got one ear) with him for 2 hours……it was horrible because the crack in the bus door made the bus so loud that I could barely hear my tunes………and I really, really, needed music to ease my mind, and to relieve a bit of the anxiety and stress that was building up throughout the ride. Or the lady behind me who kept poking me in the back and asking me annoying questions about what I thought about Uzbek women.

The best travel experience was the Bukhara-Tashkent ride!

I woke up at 6:30am,………left my hotel, and boarded a shared taxi to the train stations 15km out of town. At about 7:10 I was told by the ticket guy, that the only bus tickets available were for first or business class. So with this news, I turned away and hopped on a marshutka for the bus station. I arrived at the bus station at around 7:30am and purchased my bus ticket. The bus was said to be leaving at 9am. After a quick breakfast of eggs and hotdogs, I boarded the bus and took a snooze. I awoke at about 11:30am……..and to my surprise…the bus had not left the station. The bus finally left the station at 3:30pm, and at this point I was quite calm, happy, and feeling patient despite the fact that I had already been waiting on the bus for 6.5 hours.

After the bus departed we spent the next hour picking up people on the side of the road, and loading their cargo onto the bus.( buses in Uzbekistan are used for import\export as much as they are used for passengers) At around 6:00pm the bus came to a screeching halt, and everyone quickly exited the bus onto the cold muddy roadside. For the next 2 hours we stood in the cold as a few scruffy men with furry hats; jacked up the back end of the bus, and fixed what seamed to be a suspension problem.

We hit the road again at around 8:30pm, and ended up in Samarkand roughly 10:00pm. After a quick pit stop, and a snack of bread and chocolate; we were off.

An hour after Samarkand, the bus slowed down a bit do to the flooding valleys in route. The weather in Uzbekistan had drastically warmed up over the last few days, resulting in the rapid melting of the areas large packs of stagnant snow. A couple towns we drove through were submerged in over a foot of water. It felt rather strange to be driving a bus through it, we drove slow and steady through the deep waters, as if we were a ship. The bus created a large wake and emulated a ship drifting smoothly through an icy lake. I was saddened by the site of the many villagers holding shovels, and wooden sticks, standing knee deep in water in front of their homes. They appeared helpless and distraught, as they desperately tried to control the untamable waters, and avoid further destruction of their homes and land.

At around 12:00am I really ran out of patience. I was sweating, hungry, cramped, annoyed, sick, tired, and restless from awkward immobility. The following hour we stopped several times to meet up with men who swiftly unloaded the buses cargo into their old Russian cars, and quickly drove away.

Ohh…………and I should probably mention the road blocks……….In Uzbekistan, it is literally impossible to drive more than 40miles in a row without stopping. There are constant road blocks, which are like mini border crossing equipped with armed police, gates, and a customs offices. These road blocks run 24 hours a day, and separate each county, and regions within counties. So of course every time we passed through one of these…….the bus driver would have to exit the bus in and talk to the cops for a few minutes.

At around 3:30am, my bus arrived in wonderful Tashkent……what a relief, or so I thought. A quick analysis of my pocket funds resulted in the realization that I had only 800sum(60 cents) to my name. I reevaluated the situations, weighed my options and came up with a solid game plan of getting where I need to go. Piece of cake!

The friendly and exhausted bus driver allowed me to wait on the bus, and shelter myself from the pouring wet snow until 5:20am. The Metro does not open until 5:30am……..so temporary shelter was a necessity. After leaving the bus, I wandered through the wet parking lot and took a seat in an almost empty marshutka {marshutkas leave only when full} The bus driver reminded me of a certain Star Wars character. The scruffy old man had no neck, was round like a beach ball, had overly loose and wrinkled skin, sported a flat skull cap, and conversed with his colleague in a deep throated mumble as he chained smoked cigarettes.

I waited silently in the cold dark marshutka for an eternity(1.45hrs) before it finally left the station at 7:15 and eventually dropped me off at the metro station. The 500som for the bus ride left me with just enough money for the metro! I wandered in the thick snow through a series of cold dark parking lots until I arrived at the metro station. Upon entering the metro station, I was immediately spotted by the police. I was escorted to a back room, where I was asked a series of security questions, and thoroughly searched. No I do not have a bomb in my bag, no I do not have any drugs, no I am not carrying any guns……… I was really not in the mood at this point, and displayed a look of anger and annoyance throughout the entire process. After being released by the police and promising I would not blow up the subway, I continued on to my metro stop, and soon began the long (30min) walk back to Aibek’s apartment.

Perhaps writing out this entire story was a waste of time, in hindsight, I felt it to be rather dull when writing …….but I have got to vent my frustrations to someone…….so there you have it

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I have really enjoyed Uzbekistan, this country has been very unique and interesting to me. I am always pleased to see countries that have emerged from their Soviet period with greatness and brilliant character. The people in Uzbekistan treat each other with warmth, and unrivalled hospitality, while displaying an image and ora of happiness and love. The classic soviet characteristics of selfishness, coldness, pain, victimization, and depression, abundantly common amongst former soviet countries; has fortunately not saturated Uzbekistan. Instead Uzbekistan appears to have emerged from soviet rule and oppression with pride, happiness, joy, and dominant aspirations of progress and success.

Uzbekistan undoubtedly has the most beautiful architecture in Central Asia. The deep cultural and historical roots of Uzbekistan are shown with brilliance in both Samarkand and Bukhara. Uzbekistan’s Islamic architecture is dazzling, distinctive and in my opinion the most beautiful in the world.

{The Arabs brought Islam to Uzbekistan in the 8th century}

Uzbekistan gets its name from a descendant of Ghegaz Khan named Ozbeg, who ruled the region from 1310-40. After Ozbeg’s reign, the surrounding tribes began to refer themselves as Uzbeks……….However, modern day Uzbekistan was created in the 1920s by the Soviets. They drew a few ethnic borders, provided the Uzbeks with a language and a sense of cultural identity that separated them from their nomadic neighbors to their north and east.

Samarkand: has had a long extensive history in Central Asia. It was even visited by Alexander the great in the 4th century BC. But instead of pretending I know all about it, I will just provide you with a few photos……..and say that Samarkand’s architectural marvels are absolutely breathtaking!

Bukhara: By far my favorite city in Uzbekistan! Bukhara is absolutely magical…….the city has not seemed to have changed in the last 500 years. I thoroughly enjoyed wandering around the muddy narrow streets of old town, and losing myself in the magical atmosphere. I could go on all day about Bukhara……….but I think I will keep those opinions to myself and simply post the pictures…

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I am currently in Tashkent, Uzbekistan, and actually heading to a Aibeks village tomorrow for a bit of camel milking,…….and perhaps some hunting. It should be interesting. I had a lot of free time today, and internet access, so I figured I would take advantage of it, and post a blog while I can. After a couple days at Aibek’s village; I will be heading to Kyrgyzstan. I have made a few Peace Corps contacts there……..so yeah………I am really excited to visit the very rural and nomadic Kyrgz.

That’s all for now,…………..I really miss all my friends and family……..and really, really, miss America. I look forward to seeing you all this summer. Take care…….and I truly enjoy emails, and updates…….so please keep in touch. Internet is what keeps me sane, and helps me stay motivated!

Over and Out
Trevor


$100 exchanged into bills of 1000sum (Uzbekistan’s largest currency denomination)


Bazaar-Tashkent



-Independence Square-And the cops having fun shooting crows-I could not get too close: cops in Central Asia are a bit camera shy-


These Uzbek ladies wanted to have their picture taken with the grizzly looking American tourist


Dinner party at Aibek’s Uncle’s place:



Nan Bread, with Katya at Aibek’s pad:


Camel Milk:





Samarkand:

-The Registan


Ulughbek Medressa-finished in 1420

Sher Dor Medressa: 1636

Tilla-Kari Medressa: 1660

Bibi-Khanym Mosque: 14th century, but most is recently restored

I paid off a guard to allow me to climb through the dark, tunnel of a stairwell to the top of the large minaret, to get a good view of the city.


Locals:

Samarkand’s bazaar:


Shahr-I-Zindah: a complex of tombs including the tomb of Qusam ibn-Abbas(Mohammed’s cousin)


Bukhara:

{You will notice in some of the pictures, large square pools. These pools were used by the cities residents for drinking and washing, up through the 19th century. As a result, Bukhara became well known for its brutal plagues that would tear through the city. In the 19th Century the average resident of Bukhara did not make it past his early thirties.}


-Old town:



Char Minor:1807

Mir-i-Arab Medressa: 16th century

Nadir Divanbegi Medressa

Kalon Minaret: 1127AD


Bolo-Hauz Mosque: 1718

The Ark: 5th Century AD



Old soviet water tower: now abandoned lookout tour

Local Tajik’s



Me with the traveling essentials: a book, tunes, iodine flavored water, cheap food, cold medicine, and a beard.