OPPS! There was a big error on the last post. I titled it Turkmenistan and it should be Tajikistan. Sorry for any confusion that may be causing. Was very tired when I sent that post at midnight. Julia
Monday, May 13, 2013
Husrav, Mark and I headed south from Khojand for Dushambe, the capital of Tajikistan, with a new driver and a truly air conditioned vehicle. The air was fresh and the sky mostly sunny and improving. For about an hour we drove through fertile fields full of vegetables, apricot and apple trees, rice and cotton. The landscape slowly began to undulate as snow capped peaks came into view. Green fields prevailed for another hour with mulberry and poplar trees marching along the roadside mile after mile. It was difficult to keep from asking our driver to stop every mile for more photos. Gradually the hills grew steeper and the fields more sparse. As we ascended, the peaks filled more of our images until they seemed close enough to reach out and touch. Up and up we went until we reached a tunnel. Built by the Chinese, it is 5.6 kilometers long and bypasses the top of the 11,086 feet peak.
Then down down down a very steep, two lane road with few barriers to separate us from the precipice. I was uncomfortable much of the way, until our driver got the message to slow down. At one point he was talking on his cell phone and I about came unglued.
Finally, we reached the river at the bottom of the canyon and followed it through a pretty and narrow valley with a tiny village until we began to climb again. The canyon walls were composed of uplifted waves of pink and red iron ore. This time the assent was steeper and the landscape mostly rock, scree and recently fallen snow leading up to the stark peaks immediately in front of us. Near the top of the second pass, which was only slightly lower than the first, was another tunnel about 5 kilometers long. This one, however, had been built by Iranians and was in a shambles. Countless water-filled pot holes covered the roadway, which was not lighted as the Chinese tunnel had been. It was nearly impossible to see where to go and our driver managed almost by braille along with the other cars and trucks doing the same. Sometimes we were on the wrong side of the road negotiating a pot hole while passing another car doing the same in the opposite direction. It was chaotic. Husrav said the road was to be closed in a couple of days so the Chinese, who have been hired by the Tajik government to repair the tunnel, can begin the task. Once the tunnel is closed the only route will be over the pass on an even more dangerous road. Am sure glad we did not have to do that.
Out the other side of the second tunnel, we all breathed a sigh of relief and began the steep descent down the better and more protected roadway than the first descent had afforded. On the way down we went through at least a dozen concrete snow sheds. Shortly before we reached the valley floor, the driver stopped beside the raging river to get his car washed by a guy who advertised his services by propping up a hose with water spurting out of it. It was a novel and cheap and apparently essential service. Husrav told us that cars are not allowed into the the capital unless they are clean and after going through the last tunnel, our car was anything but clean. The driver and car washer worked together until the car was totally clean and dry, while I walked to the river’s edge and watched it roar by in a milky brown froth. A mile further down the road we stopped at an outdoor tea house and had lagman–the noodle soup with chunks of beef and potato in it–and green tea.
Back on the road, we reached the valley floor, stopped at our 4th tole booth of the day and our driver put on his seat belt for the first time. Apparently seat belts are also required in the capital. Shortly, we entered Dushambe and arrived at the Hyatt Regency about 2:30. The trip had taken less time than we expected. We were very happy to check in at a familiar hotel and be assigned to the club floor. The room was just what the doctor ordered. Our only complaint is that we do not have wifi in the room and must sit in the lobby to do email and send posts, something we have not had to do in most of the places we have stayed.
After a short break, we met up with Husrav again, got a bit of orientation to the pretty town that is set in the middle of a large valley surrounded by snow capped peaks and has a sense of prosperity to it. We walked through the large rose bedecked city park in the center of town enjoying watching young couples spend time together. Husrav said, somewhat wistfully, that couples could be alone here more easily and even kiss each other in the park. In Khojand, he has never been alone with his girl friend, whom he plans to marry in a year. The first statue, 3-times life size, we encountered was of the founder of the Tajik Dynasty, Ismoil Somani. It replaced an equally large statue of Lenin that was relocated to a lesser position in 1999. Further along, we encountered a 2 times life size statue of Rudaki, the 10th century Persian poet and father of the Tajik language. At the end of the park we stopped at the 12+/- foot diameter flag pole to get a closer look at what the Tajiks claim, with assistance from Guinness, is the largest flag in the world. At 20 x 60 meters, it is big. However, Mark and I both thing that North Korea has it beat. The flag the North Koreans put up near the DMZ, to outshine the South Korean Flag on the other side of the zone, is stupendous both in height and size. Mark is determined to find out when he can. However, if any of you are intrigued and want to do some research, we would appreciate receiving the fruits of your effort.
Several Tajik men joined us on the steps by the flag and engaged us in a cross cultural conversation. We learned that one of them was a security officer and was therefore able to afford 4 wives. Another was in the construction business and a third was a professional photographer, who wanted to trade his canon for my Nikon. No deal. They wanted to know what sort of pensions we received and what kind of work we did. They were surprised about our age difference and that we have no children. Everyone in Tajikistan wants children. Family is most important. We laughed a lot and the photographer took a photo of us with our camera.
Back on the 11th floor before sunset, we decided to stay in, enjoy the view of the city and mountains, and eat familiar salads and snacks served in the club lounge. It felt like a slice of home comfort for an evening.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
We drove through lush green and densely developed valley to visit the ruins of the once independent, 10th century khanate of Hissar. Of interest to Mark were the cars on the road. We see many GM Opels, Toyotas and Hundais and a number of Mercedes, Lexus and BMWs. Mark also spotted one Bentley, which he guesses might be owned by the President’s son. Of interest to me was the fact that the Hissar fort was used by the last Emir of Bukhara, whom we have heard about earlier, for a short time as he fled south to Afghanistan to avoid the Russian advance during the mid 1800s. The best part of the place was the view of green fields against the backdrop of snow capped peaks. We made a very fast pass through the old and tired museum and then drove back to town to see the only reclining buddha in Central Asia, now reclining in the National Museum. We asked the docent to show us only the best of the best and she did just that. I think we looked at three things besides the Buddha and were out the door and headed to lunch. Our driver suggested a Turkish restaurant so we went there and had a half Turk-half Tajik meal. It was OK, but local food is just not appealing to us these days.
During lunch Husrav told us about the Tajik involvement in WWII. At the time the population was only 1.5 million. Russia required the country to send 200,000 (18%) of its able bodied men to the front. Only 80,000 of them returned alive. I don’t know what percent of our people went, but I can’t imagine it was close to 18%? Do any of you know? Between WWII and their civil war in the 90s, it is no wonder that the country is in 130th economic position of the world’s countries. Husrav told us the average salary is 450 somoni (about $100) per month. His 47 year old father teaches math and physics o 6th through 9th graders in his village school. He also farms potatoes and carrots on 1/2 hectare (1.25 acres) near his house. He sells the crop in the fall after the harvest and makes an additional 3000-4500 samoni depending on the yield. He also grows winter wheat on another hectare, which is used for his 2 cows, 3 calves and 2 donkeys.
Then we headed for the Botanical Garden to enjoy walking and watching local people enjoy themselves. We saw several young couples wanting to be by themselves and separate groups of women and men having fun dancing, talking and laughing. While there we waited for Will Sumits to show up. He is the son of a couple we met in Burma last year. When his parents heard about our trip they told us he lived here and put us in touch with him. We corresponded several times to arrange this meeting. As it turned out, he lives very near the Botanical Garden so it was easy to meet up as we were going there anyway. We spent some time getting acquainted as we walked around the garden and then agreed to reconnect at 5pm to listen to him and a friend of his play traditional music for us. He has learned several Central Asian languages as well as many of the Central Asian musical instruments. He has taught Central Asian music history in the local university and completed his PhD in Ethno Musicology at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London. He is 34 and has lived here and in other parts of Central Asia for some time.
We arrived at Will’s house as he was laying out the traditional tea and snacks for us. Then he played one tune on a 9-string Tar from Azerbaijan and another on a 2-string Dutar from Tajikistan. We were enjoying his laying, when his friend Sirojiddin arrived with a couple of instruments. We were introduced and chatted a few minutes and then he began to play on a 4-string Tanbur, which is a Tajik and Uzbec instrument. His playing was exquisitely beautiful. Certainly, this was no ordinary musician. We asked a few questions and then learned from Will that he is a famous musician in the Central Asian musical world and has performed in many places including New York, DC and Houston. He is so appreciated that the President of the country has given him an apartment and pays him well to teach, play on a radio station and perform in various venues. He played another piece for us on the Dutar that was equally beautiful. Soon Mark and I were asking him when he would be coming to the states again and if we could get him to Grass Valley. With the video Mark made of his music as we sat there plus a recording he participated in making called “Invisible Face of the Beloved”, we think we can convince at least one of our music organizations at home to take notice. He told us he may be coming in 2014. Will will translate for him and help pull the deal together. First , Will agreed to send us more information on Sirojiddin to help us promote him.
After Sirojiddin left, Will suggested a new restaurant called the Public Pub. It sounded good to us and Husrav agreed, somewhat hesitantly, to go along. The idea was great, but the food did not exactly live up to expectation. Mark and Husrav ordered Fish & Chips and I ordered spicy prawns. My prawns were fine, but the portion was very small. Mark said his dish was not good at all. Will ordered chicken wings and cheese sticks and got a better deal than we did. We talked about life in Tajikistan, the difficulties with dating in a closed society, the rampant corruption starting from the top. and the music world. He told us bits and pieces about the corrupt behavior of the president and his cronies that were so convoluted I hate to get specific for fear I will give you incorrect information. Suffice it to say the president has a lot of money sequestered away and continues bleed the country. In spite of corruption, Will thinks he will be reelected this fall for another 7-year term. We agreed to stay in touch.
It was only 8:30 when we got back to the hotel, but I was happy to stop and relax. Tomorrow we leave this pretty city and fly to Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan.
Adventures with Julia 