Adventures with Julia

June 14, 2013

A couple at home in the hills. 5/21/13

We are home now and back on PDT. In reflecting on our recent travels through Central Asia and all the trips we have made to different parts of this blue planet, I am reminded most of all how similar people are everywhere. Everyone wants to stay connected to their family, have work that provides food and shelter and have the freedom to make the most of their lives and be happy. It does not matter what religious or political beliefs they have, nor does it matter weather they are rich or poor.

The only time we have observed people in a different light is when they are in crisis. We have never been in a place in the middle of a crisis, but have witnessed people shortly afterward. Most particularly in Burma, where the people in the north of the country were, and still are, suffering sever food shortages while we were there due to fighting between the government and local militias; in North Korea, where the crisis of hunger and spirit is so chronic that people have lost sparkle in their eyes; and in Burkina Faso where there is a chronic water shortage and so little freedom that our guide told us he no hope for the future. The more I think about the places we have been, the more I am remembering people who are suffering because of some selfish despot who has managed to secure power and then turn against society to enhance his own gains. In every failed or failing state, there seems to be a dictator who is not benevolent and stays in power through major corruption and force.

In Central Asia the people have been free of the Soviet yoke since 1991. Most under 40 appear to be glad to be out from under the Soviet system, while older people miss the carefree cradle to grave hand holding they enjoyed under Soviet rule. Today three of the countries suffer under selfish governments and are developing very slowly, in spite of great mineral wealth. The other two countries, Kyrgyzstan and Kazakstan, have more benevolent leaders and are progressing much more rapidly into the 21st century. The sense of freedom is evident in these people’s attitudes and behavior. My appreciation of the freedoms we have in this country is renewed every trip I make. I am grateful to our forefathers for creating the system we enjoy and to our service people who continue to keep us free.

Our journey through Central Asia provided a number of highlights for me. Besides the people, who are always the most interesting facet of any trip, I was taken by the incredible scenery–the awesome solitude in the flat rocky deserts, the rounded and spiky multicolored hills of Fairy Tale Canyon where we clambered around looking for the best photo angles and small stones that might tell the tale, the densely jumbled snow capped mountains, many of which do not have names and have never been climbed, the green alpine hills in which we hiked and picnicked, the undulating steppe that goes forever, and especially the billions of red poppies, similar to our California poppies, that took my breath away.

Another highlight was the Savitsky Museum in Nukus, Uzbekistan where we saw many wonderful and interesting paintings by Russian artists whose work had been suppressed and hidden during the 20’s and 30’s. Just getting to this remote, but modern and well built museum in the northern desert of Uzbekistan was an all day affair, but well worth the effort.

Visiting places along the 4,000 mile Silk Road and its various arteries was a thrill for me as I have now been to many of the cities, standing and ruined, caravansaries and oases along the way and can appreciate how arduous the transfer of goods, people and knowledge must have been down through the centuries beginning around 200BC. There is no surprise that silk, printing, writing and religions required long periods of time to transfer from China to the Mediterranean or vice versa. Samarkand was especially grand in scale and color and in my imagination. I could feel the passage of history and visualize the stories of the fearsome leaders of old, like Ghenghis Khan and Tamerlane, both of whom made their mark on this and many other Silk Road cities.

An unexpected highlight was the meeting with Fatima over dinner in her home in Karakol, Kyrgyzstan one evening. It lead to us inviting her to join us for a hike the next day, which then led to her joining us on our travels to Kazakhstan the day after that. She was with us a total of six days and we thoroughly enjoyed her company and her delight in all the new things she experienced each day. She had never been outside Kyrgyzstan or even beyond the capital city of Bishkek, about 300 miles from her home town. We, meanwhile, learned about the Dungan people of whom she is a member. They are a Muslim people of Chinese origin who fled China, where they were called Hui people, in the aftermath of the Hui Minorities War in the 19th century because of religious persecution. A small group of them settled near Karakol in 1878. Now there are several thousand and they work to retain their cultural heritage including food, many dishes of which Fatima served to us on the night we met. Although her family eats Dungan style food, they dress western, own a car and live in a fairly modern house which they have inherited and remodeled over the years. Although they are Muslim, they, like so many others in post-Soviet countries, do not practice the religion.

We were with Olga for a full two weeks of this adventure and felt like we made a close connection with her. We learned all about her home, which she took us to visit, her Granny and her boy friend, whom we met. We learned about her family history and saw photos of many of her relatives. We learned about her hopes to marry her boy friend and were there with her as she anxiously waited for him to produce a ring. It had not arrived when we parted, but I suspect she has it by now.

As for me, I have a heightened awareness of all the countries we have visited and pay much more attention to news in and about them. In some cases I maintain email relationships, as I hope to do with Olga and Fatima.

As for everyone we have met anywhere in the world, as well as ourselves, there is, and forever will be, no place like HOME. Thankfully we are spread all over the world and not all in one place.

Happy Adventures to you all, whether you are out in the world or home in your armchair.

Julia

PS I have tried to put photos into this post and am totally frustrated by my inability to figure out what to do. So I will send this without images and hope that someone will help me sometime soon.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Our time here in Almaty, which means “Father of the Apple” as apples have grown here since before anyone can remember, is running together for me. Yesterday we visited two museums, the best part of the State History Museum was the sealed Gold Room containing intricately carved high carot objects from 6th century BC Scythian burial mounds. A nomadic Indo-European people who dominated a vast area stretching from Ukraine to Mongolia during the 7th-1st centuries BC, the Scythians developed highly skilled metalworking techniques, including the fine gold designs of stags, eagles and horses we saw. We also saw a lot of paintings in the Fine Arts Museum, but the only part that captured my attention was the Soviet era paintings that showed poor working class people at their various jobs, from industry to agriculture, all smiling and proud to be Soviet citizens. There was a large painting of Lenin and Stalin urging the people to revolt, pictures of children parading as proud pioneers, paintings that included Soviet symbols–the color red, hammers, cycles and white stars, and colorful posters promoting the Soviet philosophy.

I think I have mentioned that Fatima, a delightful 45 year old Kyrgyz mother of three girls, is traveling with us until we leave Almaty. We have had a lot of fun with her as she has lived a rather sheltered life in Karakol and knows very little about the outside world, except what she has seen on TV. She has been all eyes and ears since we entered Kazakhstan for her first trip abroad. Almost everything we have done the last two days has been a first for her including: seeing so many cars on the good quality roads and witnessing traffic jams and 2 accidents as we entered town; noticing the multitude of pretty young Kazak women, an observation Mark made too; experiencing clean, well presented displays in museums; eating in a cafeteria with with a crowd of other people; riding the subway–complete with with individually decorated stations; taking the longest underground escalator even we have ridden; seeing many glass sky scrapers at one time; being in a glass elevator in an upscale hotel; riding a gondola to a ski resort for hot chocolate; standing on a tram to get to a city view point and an outdoor restaurant looking at the view; walking through a modern, spotless, underground shopping center; and attending a live ballet performance in the Almaty Opera House.

The only thing Fatima said she did not like was the prices for everything except the food in the cafeteria. So Mark looked up the per capita income in the two countries and we immediately understood the discrepancy. The GDP per capital income in Kazakhstan is $13,000, while that number in Kyrgyzstan is $2,400. Both Olga and Misha admit to earning considerably more than $2,400, but Fatima thinks her family makes only slightly more than that. Culturally, linguistically and ethnically both countries are very similar. The difference has been in size, natural reserves and governance.

There has been plenty to absorb even for us and we have not been saying WOW!!! every minute as Fatima has. For me what is new, is how very modern and western this Sacramento size city feels and how contemporary and middle class most people appear. They look and dress like us and could be in the US except that they speak Russian instead of English. We have seen better looking apartment buildings and single family houses here than anywhere else in Central Asia and we have seen many sports facilities not apparent in other Central Asian countries such as: ice skating rinks, ski resorts, hiking trails, yoga and fitness centers, hockey, tennis and volleyball fields. We learned that Kazakhstan has sent teams to the Olympics and participates heavily in the Asian Olympics, the 7th of which was held here in 2011.

The Opera House is booked with a variety of programs. We were able to attend a ballet performance of Stravinsky’s Pulchinella and Rimskii-Korsakov’s Sheherezada. The former was disappointing in every way, but the second was delightfully presented from the Orchestra’s Prelude to the colorful set, the creative costumes and the enthusiastic performance. The skill of the Kazakh Ballet Company dancers was not as good as I expected, but it was still fun to experience the performance, the theater and the audience, who were not very enthusiastic. They clapped in continuous unison for whichever performer was taking a bow and made no change for the lead dancers. Meanwhile, the leading lady received many bouguets and two huge baskets of roses from competing theaters.

One evening we took Olga and Misha to dinner at an Italian restaurant recommended by our hotel. Fatima begged off so she could meet with an old university friend she knew. When we got there we knew we were in for an expensive dinner as the place was in the most upscale part of town and the entrance was very elegant. We had a very nice meal along with some nice wine and were happy to treat the two of them as they have provided us with a delightful time in Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan. For myself, I was most glad to have a change in cuisine,

Monday, May 27, 2013

This was our last full day in Almaty. Olga put together a picnic and off the 5 of us went for a trip into Big Almaty Canyon, slightly north of the city. On the way we stopped at a falconry facility and got introduced to several different species of falcons, griffins, eagles and Himalayan Owls and learned their habits and traits and which ones are endangered. We also saw a captive pair of wolves and their cubs, several Kazakh Hunting Dogs, Central Asian sheep dogs, and pack horses. The primary intent of the facility is to care for the birds and release some into the wild every year. To accomplish this goal they offer tours like the one we had, put on daily organized falcon shows, rent their horses for rides by the hour and provide organized overnight hunts including horses, dogs and/or falcons. Interesting to visit, but not my cup of tea.

From there we continued on up the canyon along a steep, narrow and curvy road until we were at 9,000 feet and well above Big Almaty Lake. We stopped at a turn out, grabbed the lunch goodies and walked down a steep meadow to a rocky outcrop, where we spread out our lunch and sat in the lea of rocks to avoid the cold breeze. The scenery would have been excellent, if the cold overcast clouds had not obscured the mountain tops and chilled us all to the bone. We walked a bit after lunch, but soon were glad to be back in the car and headed back down the canyon to warmer climes. We stopped at a park and walked among the young lovers occupying all the benches, then visited another Russian Orthodox church before heading back to the hotel to relax before dinner.

Olga organized a special dinner for us at a good Russian Restaurant and we were determined to eat whatever she ordered. As it turned out, we actually enjoyed everything that came to the table and that included many plates of salads, soups and entrees. We made many toasts during dinner using a non-alcoholic Russian fruit drink. Non of the three of them drink alcohol and Mark and I were happy to follow suit—especially with all the toasts that were made. It was a fun evening and we were please to have shared so many good memories with the three of them.

Back at the hotel, bedtime came early as we have an early flight to Astana, our last stop in Central Asia.

Have a happy day,
Julia

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

After a good rain during the night, the sky remained overcast but clear for our hike into the mountains south of Karakol. Fatima Dautova, the Dungan woman at whose home we had dinner the evening before, joined us on the hike. Although she speaks very limited English, she is full of fun and enthusiasm. She is 45 and 25 years married to her childhood sweetheart, whom her parents did not approve because he is Uzbek. So they had a civil wedding and told their parents afterward. After they had their first child, the 4 parents softened and soon all was well. Now they have three children, and are still happily married. They are both unemployed teachers, who are surviving through their entrepreneurial creativity. She makes and serves Chinese dinners to locals as well as tourists in their home, while he operates a vendor shop in the local market selling women’s clothes. They have managed to remodel the family home in addition to raising their family and now they both want to travel, but don’t know how and don’t think they have the money. She has never been outside Kyrgyzstan. We enjoyed her company and invited her to join us the next day for our hike. She did not hesitate to say yes.

Next morning, in spite of a heavy overcast and cool day, we drove into the Djety Oguz (7 Bulls) Canyon, named for 7 massive, similarly sculpted, red sandstone hills snuggled side by side at the entrance to the canyon. They did not look at all like bulls to me, though they were big, imposing and photogenic. The story goes that the bad king of one tribe stole the pretty wife of the good king of another tribe. The good king asked to have his wife back or there would be a war. The bad king agreed to have a peace gathering in the canyon and give the wife back to avoid war. Seven bulls were brought to be slaughtered for the feast. When everyone gathered, the bad king killed the wife so that the good king could have only her body. The blood of the wife stained the mountains in the canyon red and the bulls were never slaughtered.

Misha drove us over the 4×4 dirt track to a pretty green meadow filled with wild flowers, a couple of families building summer yurts, and several groups of young people enjoying an outing in the canyon in spite of the cold, windy cloudy day. We started our hike at about 7100 feet and ascended the meadow into the tree line and beyond to a lovely waterfall at 8100 feet. We stopped in the high meadow just below tree line on the way back to enjoy the incredible view of snow capped peaks, conifer and birch tree forests and wide open meadows. Believe it or not we started jumping to see if we could capture each other in mid air. Hundreds of photos later we were all laughing ourselves silly and even I managed to get some “air” in a couple of images. Back down at the car, we spread out our picnic lunch on an unused table, but ate rather quickly as the weather was looking and feeling inhospitable. As we drove back down the canyon, the rain started and we were pleased about our timing. We had such a good time with Fatima that we invited her to join us for the next leg of our trip to Almaty, Kazakstan so she would not have to wait any longer to start traveling beyond Kyrgyzstan. She was thrilled at the offer and said she hoped to join us after talking with her family.

That evening we were invited to a Uigher family’s home to learn to make noodles the Kyrgyz way for the dish we have eaten several times called lagman. Fortunately the time consuming part of the task, making and resting the dough, was already done. Placed in front of us, after we washed our hands, was a plate of dough already rolled into one long half inch thick coil and oiled. The lady of the house, Gulia, sat across from us and gave us each a section of the coil. Our job was to stretch it and make it thinner so it would grow several times in length. I struggled with the coil and it kept breaking on me. Mark, as you might expect, got the hang of it quickly and finished his coil way ahead of me. The next step was to wrap the coil around our hands in big loops and bang the dough on the table to stretch it more and toughen it. No question who’s noodles looked the best. Meanwhile, the water was boiling and soon we were cooking our noodles, about 2 minutes to a handful, straining them and placing them on a platter. The tomato-beef sauce had been made earlier and was simmering on the stove. Before we knew it, the same table was set for dinner and we each had a plate of lagman in front of us along with all the usual salads, bread and deserts. Several members of her family, including her three daughters and two grandchildren, joined us at the kitchen table to chat and ask questions. The atmosphere was warm and congenial as Olga was a long time family friend. We had a long personal conversation with the English speaking middle daughter, Aziza, who is 22, has a university degree, is very pretty and still single. She says she wants to continue working and save money at home for a year, then move to Bishkek and find a good job in the travel industry, get married and have children. She is not sure in which order. In her culture she is already an old maid and should find a husband soon. We all agreed that if she got married and had children first, the other goals might never come to pass. She understands, but is still pulled by her culture. Fortunately, there is no boyfriend in the picture at the moment. We learned that she had been bride-napped when she was 17. A girl friend of hers saw it happen and told her father. Within an hour he arrived at the boy’s home, where he had taken Aziza, and demanded his daughter back, insisting that she was far too young to be getting married. She says she was very glad to see her father show up so soon.

Finally, after a very pleasant day, we went back to our hotel. We learned that Fatima would be joining us for our trip back to Bishkek and on to Almaty and turned in knowing we had an early start and a long drive ahead.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

After two days of cold, rainy overcast weather, we woke to a gloriously clear, sunshiny day and were able to see the freshly snow coated mountains as we drove out of Karakol and turned west toward Bishkek on the south side of the lake. As we passed through small villages we saw many children in their uniforms headed for school. During the Soviet era, all children in the federation wore the same uniform; for girls, black dress with a white apron and big white bows in their hair and for boys a black suit with a white shirt and red tie, if they were a pioneer. Today many children still wear that uniform but each country has its own rules. Here they need only wear dark pants and a white shirt. The dress, suit, apron and tie are optional in public schools. Everyone goes to school for 11 years. After that university is optional. School starts on September 1 and ends on May 25 every year in all schools. Summer is about to begin in Kyrgyzstan.

Fatima told us that there were not many Russians in Karakol anymore and the town was now about 1/3rd each–Dungan, Uigher and Russian. Olga explained that Putin wanted to repopulate rural Russia, so he made an offer to all Russians living in post-Soviet countries. He agreed to give each family 250,000 rubles towards the building of a home if they moved to non-urban parts of Russia. Apparently many people took him up on his offer and he followed through with the money. According to Fatima, most Russian families in Karakol left. Kyrgyzstan had been 40% Russian before the offer and now the Russian population is only 20% according to Olga. Her family is in the 20% that chose to remain.

About 2 hours into our 11 hour drive to Bishkek, we arrived at our first planned stop, Fairy Tail Canyon. Stacey, our GeoEx planner, told Olga this was her favorite part of our whole trip and we soon understood why. The deep, multi colored sandstone hills are sculpted into wonderfully imaginative shapes. Trails through the canyon allowed us each to get lost in the folds and figures and reconnect at the top of knobs and spires only to descend again into another cleft and reappear hundreds of feet away from the others. It was hard to say what it reminded us of most–the Chinese wall in Montana, Pinnacles National Monument in California, Bryce Canyon in Utah or only itself with no comparison. I found myself collecting stones along my path and ended with a pile I washed and sorted through to settle on a few to remind me of the place. Mark thinks I am nuts to carry home rocks, but the truth is I manage to bring home a few from each trip. If only I could remember which came from where. I will happily show you my collection if you are interested.

This south side highway is not as smooth as the north side and there are many more villages through which Misha had to slow down. For the first half of the day, however, the road follows the lake closely and we were constantly in eyesight of snow-capped peaks as well as the water. It was a feast for the eyes. Our second scheduled stop was an hour further west at a village called Bokombaevo where Olga had arranged a meeting with a golden eagle hunter. We followed him a few miles along a dirt road up into the hills behind the village. Once away from all population, buildings and vegitation, he stopped and introduced himself as Talgar. He had on a special outfit he wears for golden eagle events including a huge gold belt buckle with two eagles on it. According to Olga he has won the national championship in eagle hunting for the last couple of years, from a field of 50 hunters in the country. Shortly, he opened the hatchback of his car and lifted out his bird, a large female named Tumar. She was hooded and seemed relaxed and passive. Talgar put on a large, heavy leather glove and held her for us to see. Then we took turns holding the 13 pound bird and petting her feathers. We all enjoyed the experience, including Fatima.

After answering lots of questions while we took many photos, Talgar left Tumar standing on the ground and retrieved a soft, cuddly rabbit from the back seat of his car. He held the rabbit lovingly for awhile and then put it down in the middle of an open area. We were all surprised that the rabbit did not move. He told us it is because it has no fear and no familiar place to go. Then he picked up Tumar and marched up a hill a couple hundred yards away. We retreated to the top of a small hill nearby. On a call to be ready, he unhooded Tumar, who looked around, saw the rabbit twitch its ears, and then flew immediately to it. The struggle was over in a few seconds. It was with mixed feelings that I continued to take photos as the bird devoured the rabbit. Olga and Fatima and Misha wanted no part of it. Talgar came down and assisted Tumar in the eating. Talgar told us he took Tumar from her nest at the age of about 6 weeks and trained her. She is now 10 years old. He will keep her another 10 years and then return her to the wild, so she can enjoy a normal life span of 50 years. She is a champion because she has successfully killed a large fox two years in a row, something most trained eagles don’t do. This was a first for us. We had hoped to see an Eagle Hunter in Mongolia, but failed.

Back in the village, we visited a felt making factory and saw the whole process from dirty wool to completed felt rugs. About 30 people work in this labor intensive business using antiquated tools and machines, but the product is colorful and popular and shipped far and wide. We had already made a decision to order a carpet, so we spent a good bit of time selecting the colors and designs for it. It should be shipped to us in a couple of months. At this point we think it will go on a floor at the ranch.

We made one last planned stop at the top 2109 meter Keoken Pass to have a picnic lunch. It was so windy that we ate in the car, but had a good time doing it anyway. From there we drove directly to Bishkek, with only bathroom breaks and one last look at Issyk-Kol Lake. It was 6:15 when we reach the Hyatt Regency. Even though it had been a long day, it had been full of interesting events and we were not as tired as I thought we would be. Misha, however, must have been really tired and certainly deserved a day off. We ate in the hotel and relaxed in our room for the evening.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Our last day at rest. We went for a walk through the gardens near the hotel and encountered an agriculture fair in progress. We got free passes to get in so we wandered around the big combines and tractors and wondered who could pay to own these tools or even have large enough properties to warrant using them. At the back of the fair was a large John Deere. Mark headed directly for it and saw that it had been made in manufactured in Germany although the company is located in Moline, Illinois, his home town. The lady rep spoke a bit of English and explained that people in Kyrgyzstan do not buy the equipment. Instead the company provides service to them on a contract basis. She told us the largest land owner in Kyrgyzstan has 2000 hectares. They do much more business in Kazakstan, where people can afford to buy the equipment. The largest landowner there has 100,000 hectares. In addition to all the farm equipment there were several yurts set up as vendor booths and, although we found a few things that interested us, we did not buy anything as we had a date back at the hotel with Olga.

She had arranged a trio to play folk music especially for us in the lounge on the 6th floor and we did not want to be late. The group was dressed in colorful Kyrgyz costumes and played several instruments including: a Komuz–3-string long necked instrument, a sybyzgy–flute, a chopochoor–ceramic whistle or flute and a temir komuz–iron jews harp for the mouth. They also sang. We were treated to lovely music from this small group and appreciated the effort Olga put into providing it for us. At our invitation she brought her mother, one sister and Fatima, so we made a decent audience.

It was over too soon and everyone went their separate ways. We headed for the nearby crafts center called Tzum to see if we could find gifts for people. Mark scored a couple of items and we bought a Kyrgyz flag for our collection, but I found nothing that appealed. Too bad, but done. We headed for the pool for the rest of the day. Later we walked a couple of blocks to and through Victory Square to a Lebanese Restaurant called L’Azzarro, that was recommended to us by a bunch of National Guard men from Mississippi, who have been here a month training the Kyrgyz military in earthquake preparedness. They were at L’Azzarro’s ahead of us, for one last meal. We have chatted with them several time in the hotel and gradually learned a few things about their mission and the US presence here. The US base really is a transit station and, because the Kyrgyz government keeps increasing the rent each year–it was a few million a year, then 20 million and now they are asking 60 million–the guys believe the US is looking to move somewhere else. Apparently Putin is putting extra pressure on the Kyrgyz to get rid of the US transit station. It was a good referral. The whole menu was in American English and we knew what we were getting before it arrived. It was a good meal. At midnight the Mississippi men fly home. Tomorrow early, we drive to Kazakstan, as Olga wants us to get across the border before the traffic builds up.

Here is another language lesson Olga taught us. Say “yellowbluebus” quickly and you have said “I love you” in Russian. Never mind how the words look in in that language.

Have a nice day and yellowbluebus,
Julia

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Yesterday we headed east from Bishkek through the fertile Chon Kemin Valley toward an 11th century silk road ruin called Burana Tower. Once it was a major trading center. When Genghis Khan passed through in 1218, the people went out to meet him and invited his troops into the city, if he would just not destroy it. Because they were so agreeable, he spared the city, renaming it Gobolik (Good Town). We climbed the uninteresting, partially restored minaret, from which we had a fine view of the valley and snow-capped peaks in the distance along with a group of boisterous school children. Of considerably more interest was a collection of 1500 year old balbals or man shaped stone grave markers. They are roundish in shape with faces carved into the top portion of the stone–a little like the shape of Russian dolls. They reminded us of similar stones in Mongolia.

Back on the road, Olga told us about a Kyrgyz and Russian tradition–the giving of children to needy relatives. For example, she was given to her grandmother and her step-grandfather when she was 12 because they needed help with household chores. The grandmother asked her daughter for her youngest child, who happened to be Olga. It was a happy situation, as Olga’s parents lived in a village in Kazakstan and Olga did not like village life. She was glad to live with her granny in a house in Bishkek and go to school in the city. Now that her parents are getting older, her nephew will be going to live with them. It is another happy situation as the boy was dying on the vine in a city apartment and is thrilled to be moving to a house in the village. This is one way in which families stay close and help each other. Family is most important all over Russia and the former Soviet countries. When Granny dies, Olga will get her house and when her parents die, the nephew will get that house. Olga, whose parents are Russian considers herself Russian with Kyrgyz citizenship. Regardless which country provides you citizenship, your ethnicity is most important.

We stopped in the village of Tokmok for lunch at a family guesthouse. The owners, Eric and Marina, had the traditional lunch waiting for us in their large house, complete with a separate gift shop. Mark bought a small bottle of what he thinks is local cognac. The best part of the meal was the chicken noodle soup. It was not too salty and had good flavor. Otherwise it was like all other traditional meals–several small plates of salads, bread, cold cuts, cheese, cookies and many small candies such as M&Ms on the table when we arrive; followed by soup and then an entree, hot tea and often desert. This entree was sticky rice and chicken–not as bad as many.

After a short stop at a cemetery so I could get some photos, we carried on to another village for our overnight in a local Guesthouse called Ashu. It was much larger than the place we stopped for lunch. Our accommodations were in a building with about 5 other rooms, each with its own bathroom. Our room was small, but adequate. We dropped our bags and, with Olga and Misha, walked through the village and cow pastures, over three creeks and up a hill with a 700 foot gain for a lovely view of the small valley and surrounding mountains. Back at the guesthouse, we had another traditional meal and went to bed. I could not even think about writing, although this guesthouse has 24 hour wifi in our room. We did check email before dropping off to sleep.

This morning, the sky was solid overcast and the air cool. Our plan was to continue east to a road stop, from which we would walk along the gorge to see a red rock canyon, not unlike Brice Canyon. However, when we arrived at the road stop neither Mark or I felt much like another 2 hour walk and Olga was suffering from an injured foot. So it was easy to give the gorge a pass. The photo of it looks good, but we just did not have the desire.

Today Olga told us about another local tradition–bride napping. In the past when a boy saw a girl he wanted to marry but did not think it would be possible in the ordinary way, he would snatch her and have sex with her. Then he would tell her parents that she had to marry him or she would not find another husband and would bring shame on her family. Of course the parents would consent. The wedding would be small and inexpensive. Sometimes a boy would do this because he could not afford a big wedding. In more recent times, as in the case of Olga’s sister, the boy knew that her Russian parents and his Kyrgyz parents would not approve and allow them to marry, so he had one of her friends snatch her and lock her in a room, while he got some elderly women from his clan to come and talk her into accepting the situation and marrying him. He had seen her on the university campus they both attended, but had never spoken to her. She remembered who he was once she saw him. Because his relatives talked her into the marriage, the parents had to consent. Olga says it has worked out OK as her sister seems happy. The couple lived in Bishkek for a time, but when they had a baby, the boy’s parents asked to have it. Olga’s sister did not want to give up her first child and refused, so they moved to Northern Kazakstan to get away from his family. They now have two children and another of the boy’s siblings has given a child to his parents.

We spotted Issyk-Kul Lake several miles before reaching our hotel near the middle of the north shore. At 182 km long, 65 km wide and 702 meters deep, it is the world’s second largest lake alpine lake behind Lake Titikaka in Bolivia. The elevation of the lake is 1600 meters and the water is 4% saline. We checked into our room at the Karven Four Seasons Resort (not the 5-star one you are thinking of). We have only a tiny view of the lake from our room, which is a good quarter mile from the shore, but the room is clean and comfortable. On our walk to the shore, we passed dozens of resort houses and sport facilities set in the best manicured gardens we have seen on this trip–fragrant, dark purple lilacs were all along the path and unfamiliar, late daffodils were in full bloom. The wind seemed to pick up as we walked and we were cold by the time we reached the dock. The water was icy dark blue and cold, like Lake Tahoe. The natural gravel beach is covered with imported sand, which blows everywhere in the wind. It was not long before we headed back to our room, where Mark read on the balcony and I wrote on the bed. Soon the wind became so fierce that sand was blowing everywhere and we could no longer see the lake or even the nearby trees. There were sprinkles but not much rain. I was happy to stay in the room until the squall blew over. We made lunch on snacks we had collected earlier.

Around mid afternoon, the weather had improved and we were getting itchy to do something, so we drove east to Cholpon-Ata, the nearby town, where we stopped to see the little and poor Greek Orthodox church built since 1991 that has about 60 regular attendees. It was located in a tightly packed neighborhood of small Russian houses and hard to find, but sweet in a sad sort of way.

From there we went to the open-air State Museum of 2000 year old Scythian Petroglyphs. Thankfully, there was no wind and the air was warmer, although the sky remained solid overcast. We wandered around what looked like a huge garden of boulders from nearly the lake shore to the base of the mountains. One petroglyph led to another until we had walked all over the boulder field having fun photographing ancient drawings of camel, deer, ibex,stick men hunting ibex and several kinds of lichen growing on many of the rocks.

Dinner was served in a theater style dining room that reminded me of Reno floor shows.
Olga arranged for us to have duck breast–a pleasant change. Over dinner we learned that Kyrgyzstan is the one country in Central Asia that allows private ownership of land by both locals and foreigners. The land reform law took effect in 1998 with the assistance of USAID. Kazakstan allows ownership of land by locals, but not foreigners. Kyrgyzstan is also the only country for which we did not need a visa, and it is the most liberal of all the stans. People have the right to free speech and free press and, with a permit, to bear arms.

We talked a lot about the Kyrgyz language and their legendary hero, Manas. The Kyrgyz alphabet was changed into Cyrillic during the 1940s by Aaly Tokombaev. Prior to then, Kyrgyzstan had used the Uzbek alphabet. Tokombaev used the new alphabet to transcribe the Kyrgyz epic poem, Manas, into written form for the first time. The poem has over 500,000 lines, is 20 times longer than the Iliad and Odyssey combined, and takes weeks to recite. The history of the poem dates back 1000 years and has been passed down by manaschi, or story tellers. The epic is a collection of myths, folklore, and legends about the warrior hero Manas and his successors. Its theme reflects Kyrgyzstan’s nomadic past, beset by enemies and constant battles and focuses on the struggle for freedom. It is a three part epic that begins with Manas, the brave leader who unites the Kyrgyz people against foreign enemies and brings justice, brotherhood and unity. After he is mortally wounded in battle, the second part follows the adventures of his wife and son, Semetei, and the third part tells of the adventures of his courageous grandson, Seitek. The epic is so important to the Kyrgyz people that there is a mausoleum for him and statues of him throughout the country. A museum was built for the 1000th anniversary celebrations in 1995 and thousands visit it each year.

Olga gave us each Kyrgyz names. Mark is Markus Curtisovich, that is son of Curtis, and I am Julia Franklinovna, daughter of Franklin.

Enough. We are off to bed and I hope to get this posted first.
Love and Hugs, Julia

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Many thanks to all of you who have sent comments. We enjoy reading them and hope you will be understanding that we are not able to reply to each one separately. We encourage all of you to comment and ask questions. I will try to answer them via post. Also, I will appreciate any answers you can give to the questions I have raised, especially in the last couple of posts.

On the way to the Dushanbe airport, I realized that I have been misspelling the word and calling it Dushambe. Please note the correction. I will try to be more diligent. For some reason, I have been exceptionally tired most of the time we have been in Tajikistan.

When we arrived at the airport, the owner of the Tajik agency providing our services was there to say good bye and presented me with a scarf–purple–how did she know? This was our second meeting with her as she had greeted us, when we arrived at the Hyatt, to apologize for the lack of Air conditioning in our first car. We appreciated her concern and the speedy arrival of a different car with working AC. I think she also had something to do with the fact that an airport official was given our ticket documents and proceeded to march us to the head of each line and directly through airline check-in, customs and passport control to the waiting lounge without any baggage checking. Mark surprised him with a nice tip for the service.

Our afternoon flight to Bishkek provided us with exceptional views of the Fergana Valley and the Pamir and Tian Shan Mountain Ranges. The 200 mile long Valley is the most fertile and salt free land in Uzbekistan and home to 40% of Uzbeks. The area is south and east of Tashkent. We passed by the road to the valley on our way over the mountains to Dushanbe. The southern third of the valley lies in Kyrgyzstan. From the air we could see that the Kyrgyz take advantage of every inch of their arable land until the Pamirs deny fertility.

Known as the “Roof of the World”, the Pamir range is one of the most remote regions of Asia. Perched at the high crossroads of China’s Xinjiang province, Afghanistan’s Wakhan Corridor and Pakistan’s Chitral region, the multitude of spectacular peaks rise from 11,500 to well over 20,000 feet. We could see deep arid valleys with large muddy rivers and many glaciers. From the comfort of our plane, I could only wonder at the daring and courage of the likes of Marco Polo, who is said to have passed through these mountains in the 13th century and the 19th century British and Russian explorers who were determined to survey the many passes and routes through the mountains in their countries seesaw struggle to gain control of Central Asia. Just before we began our descent into Bishkek we could make out the even higher Tian Shan range, where we will be in a few days.

On the ground we taki’d by a number of US military planes–C5As and refueling tankers–and wondered about their presence here. Our flight arrived in Bishkek an hour+ earlier than planned and our guide was not waiting. Fortunately we had been provided with contact information in just such a situation. Olga, our Kyrgyz guide, admitted no one was enroute to pick us up and told us to take a taxi. The city is a good distance from the airport so we enjoyed the fertile valley scenery as we drove along. Olga was at the hotel to pay the taxi and greet us. We agreed to meet in two days to start our tour with her. Meanwhile we were on our own in another Hyatt Regency for the rest of today and all of tomorrow. I could not get to the room and change into my swim suit fast enough. All I wanted to do was be by the pool, read a book and not think about travel or the blog. Later, we ate a very nice western meal at the hotel and went to bed early. TOMORROW IS A FREE DAY !!!!!

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Can’t help myself. As I sit here by the pool, I keep thinking of the things i want to tell you.

Here are a few more details about cars, which Mark is helping me to get correctly. In Turkmenistan, we saw lots of used cars from the US–especially Toyota Camrys, many with dealer decals indicating a number of different states. However, there were not many cars in the whole country as the population is low, there are not many roads and there is good bus service in the one large city of Ashgabat. In Uzbekistan we saw almost exclusively GM Chevrolet’s and Daiwoo’s as they are manufactured locally. There, approximately 80% of families have a car. In Tajikistan there were more Korean, Russian, Japanese and some GM Opels. Only 60% of families have a car there. Here in Kyrgyzstan, we have, in less than a day, noticed many old German BMW’s, MBs and Audis. There are also some Lexus, Hondas and Toyotas.

Kyrgyzstan is slightly smaller than South Dakota and has a population of 5.5 million, with 1 million living in the capital, Bishkek. The country was annexed to Russia in 1876. In 1916, the people revolted against the Tsar, but were severely defeated with 1/6th of the population dying during the revolt. The country joined the Soviet Union in 1936 and finally gained independence in 1991. 75% of the population is Muslim and 20% is Russian Orthodox. 30% of the population is under 14 and 25 is the average age. Amazingly, 95% of the country is at an elevation of 1000 feet or higher. Bishkek is not an ancient city. It was a fort guarding the trade routes at the fringe of the Kokand Khanate (territory) and, after annexation in 1876, became a Russian garrison town.

THis morning, while walking around the center of town, which in my opinion is not very attractive compared to other capital cities like Ashgabat and Dushanbe, we could not help noticing how western every one is dressed. No traditional clothes at all and very few scarves worn in the religious muslim style. Many women are in jeans, above the knee skirts and short sleeve blouses or t-shirts. This is clearly a secular country. We blend in completely and are barely noticed. Our hotel has more Americans than we have seen elsewhere, including US military personnel. I met one in the elevator and asked about the planes at the airport and his purpose here. The planes, he said, belong to a small US base at the airport what assists our efforts in Afghanistan. He is part of a team of people who are here for a short time to train the US base personnel in earthquake preparedness.

Learning about each country’s currency and exchange rates, both official and black market, has been challenging as we just get the hang of one, and then move to another country. I thought you might like a bit of explanation on the matter. In Turkmenistan the currency is the “manat” where 2.85 equaled $1. In Uzbekistan, Mark carried around stacks of “sum” at the black market rate of 2500 to $1. The currency used in Tajikistan is called the “somoni” and the rate there is 4.8 to $1. There was no credit available in any of these countries and we went through cash at a great rate. In Kyrgyzstan we are using a currency called “som” that is worth 48.18 to $1. We are finally able to use an ATM here in Bishkek.

I am out of thoughts. Bye for now. Am going swimming.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Happy Mother’s Day to all you Mom’s and a special Happy Birthday to my mother, LaVonne.

It has been another long day as our driver wanted to allow plenty of time to cross the border. We were up and on our way by 6:45am. The scenery during the short 1 1/2 hour drive south of Tashkent to the Tajik border at Oybek was totally new for us. The gently rolling, green hills, that reminded Mark of Wisconsin, were framed by the foothills of the Tajikistan Mountains in the distance. The sky was overcast, gray and slightly humid. Genia walked us as far as he was allowed, which was only to the first check point. We said our good byes and thanked him for giving us an especially memorable experience of Uzbekistan. He had been not only an excellent guide, but a good traveling companion as well. Then we passed into no man’s land for about a quarter of a mile rolling our own bags. A couple more check points and we were in introducing ourselves to our new Tajik guide, Husrav. All together the crossing took 45 minutes and we walked our bags about 1/3rd of a mile. Husrav, who is only 23 and very cute, thought our crossing was a new record and we were all happy it did not take longer.

Then we met our new driver and piled into the car. It did not take long to realize that the car did not have a functioning air conditioner. As soon as we got to our hotel in the town of Khojand, about 45 minutes from the border, we requested the driver find another car. While we were at lunch, the driver found us two different cars; one for the rest of the day and another to take us us to Dushanbe, the capital city, tomorrow. Each car came with its own driver, so our driver actually gave away the business because he could not provide functioning AC.

Lunch was in a large “traditional” restaurant where we could choose what we wanted from a menu with photos of the dishes. Unfortunately a good number of dishes were unavailable. Even with the pictures and Husrav describing what was in them, I did not like what I chose as the food was greasy, salty and not very warm. Not a good omen for Tajik food. We asked for beer and were told that it is not served in traditional restaurants in Tajikistan. This was the first time we had been told we could not have alcohol. We made due with the usual green tea.

Neither Mark or I was very interested in seeing another madrassa, mosque or minaret, but we went along with the program and asked Husrav to show us only the highlights.
He did just that. We got to the site, walked a few steps to get a good view of the rather Soviet looking complex, took a couple photos and called it good. We turned around and were now facing a large Russian, colonial looking building that houses the market and went inside to have a look. A large huge space with high ceilings, bright lighting, and rows and rows of colorful vegetables, fruits, bread rings, tomato plants, dried foods and more with vendors busily peddling their wares. The atmosphere was very upbeat and welcoming.

Most ladies wear the traditional dress similar to what we have seen in Uzbekistan–mid-calf, formless, multi-colored print dresses worn over bloomer-like pants in the same print. Traditional women will cover some of their hair with the scarf done in a stylish fashion. Religious women will cover their whole head and neck, except their face. A number of women were wearing white scarves on their heads and Husrav told me that white represented mourning for the loss of a family member.

I approached one such lady at the entrance to the market and asked if I could take her photo. She nodded approval and I proceeded to take several as she had a lovely face with her eyebrows painted in one wide continuous line. I asked Husrav to inquire why she was wearing a white scarf and she proceeded to tell us in a matter of fact way that her husband and brother had died and she was the sole provider for her 5 children. She sold plastic bags in the market to support her family. I was so taken with her accepting and uncomplaining attitude that I couldn’t stop myself from giving her a few dollars in local currency. She broke down in appreciation and we hugged and took more photos. Soon we realized that the market was full of friendly people, many of whom asked us to take their photo. I had a field day and got our guide to translate so we could converse with a number of people. The ladies were not shy and even asked us a few questions. One group wanted to know why I did not have on any jewelry and others wondered if we were married because I did not have on a ring. Everyone asked where we were from and most had heard of California
.
Finally, we left the market and drove to a large and opulent palace-like, communist commune, office building, an oxymoron for sure. It was built by a tall and very rotund Soviet comrade who had become the head of a large and prosperous farming commune during the Soviet era. He became famous because of the palace. We saw photos of him with Khrushchev. He died in 1975 and now the palace is open to the public as a museum and is available for large, official government meetings. We walked rather fast through it, in spite of a lovely raked theatre with huge crystal chandeliers, beautiful hand painted wooden ceilings throughout and an entrance hall with large, polished white stone columns, which Husrav said came from under the Indian Ocean (any of you have any idea what that could be?). Once outdoors again, we experienced our first real rain of this trip. It was also chilly as we made a run for the car. We wanted no more sightseeing and went back to the hotel to rest until dinner. Our room is a suite, but it is a very tired place and not very comfortable. Mark thinks it is the worst accommodations we have had so far. I will be very happy if this is the worst. In any event, we were both glad to stop for awhile.

Later Husrav, who is trying so hard to please us, took us to the only restaurant he could find that would serve the two dishes we have come to recognize and tolerate–a pasta soup-like dish called Lagman and a rice stir fry called Plov. Apparently they are usually served only at lunch, which Husrav had not wanted to tell us. The meal was not a very pleasant experience, but we had fun conversing with Husrav anyway. The food here in Central Asia is becoming more and more difficult to eat as there is so much fat and meat in everything including most salads, which are also drowning in sauce.

For the record, here are some of the bits and bites we have learned since entering Tajikistan. The country is about the size of Wisconsin with a population of 8 million of which 80% are Tajik, 15% are Uzbek, 1% are Russian. The population is only 26% urban with the majority of people working in agriculture. Unfortunately, about 46% of the population live below the poverty line according to the Atlas Mark read. The median age is 23 with a growth rate of 1.8% and a life expectancy of 65. Dushanbe, the capital, has about 1 million people. Although the country is a secular state, 85% are Suni Muslim and 5% are Shia. Most are Muslim in name only with about 30% practicing islam, including Husrav. The currency is the Somoni, of which 4.8 equal a dollar. Income taxes very, but farmers pay 18%. Husrav’s father, who is a teacher pays about the same, but Husrav does not know how much he pays as it is taken out of his pay check before he gets it. I found it interesting that he did not seem a bit concerned about the amount of tax he pays. Perhaps many people think as he does.

Tajikistan became independent on September 9, 1991. A civil war began in 1992 and lasted until 1997. The fight was between those who wanted a secular country and those who wanted an islamic state. A constitutional government was formed, elections were held and the pro secular leader was elected president in 1994 while the war continued. The war cost 10 billion dollars and 100,000 lives. In the end an agreement was signed in Moscow between the leaders of the two sides and the country became secular with the opposition receiving a 30% representation in the new government. President Emomali (61) was elected for two 5-year terms, then changed the constitution to 2 7-year terms, allowing him to stay in power. Elections are due to occur on November 6 this year. There are currently 8 parties and Husrav is hoping the party of the current president wins, but that a different person is elected. It will be interesting to see if power will transfer peacefully.

The effects of the long war and lack of employment opportunity are two big reasons the country is so far behind all the other Central Asia countries in developing a stable economy. Today one million Tajiks work in Russia and send money home. About 20% of the people work in agriculture, 20% in industry, of which aluminum is the biggest product, and 60% in services. Meanwhile about 2000 Chinese are living and working in Tajikistan in road and tunnel construction, because Tajiks do not have the needed skills.

There is more I could say about Tajikistan, but I suspect you have heard more than you care to know so I will stop.

Tomorrow we have another long drive from Khojand to Dushambe. Unlike previous drives, however, this one will be through two high mountain passes.

Until I write again,
Have a good day of night, whichever timezone you are enjoying.
Julia

Friday, May 10, 2013

Our hotel in Khiva is wonderfully located in the heart of the 2,500 year old walled city. Late yesterday we walked all around the pedestrian only city, by ourselves for a change, capturing images in the late afternoon sunlight. This morning we woke up to a cold overcast day with the hint of rain in the air so we were especially glad we had taken advantage of yesterday’s light.

Our Khiva guide, 25 year old Makhmud, started us off at a wall sized map of the Silk Road and a huge bronze statue of a 10th century mathematician named Al Khorezmiy who lived in Khiva and gave us the concepts, “algorithm” and “algebra”. He also wrote many books about mathematics. As we reentered Ichan Kala, the inner city, through the west gate, Makhmud told us the population of the walled town is 3000 including his family. Unlike other Silk Road cities, Khiva has been occupied throughout its history and is therefore in much better shape. Without prompting he told us people his age and younger are all glad to be independent. The average age in Uzbekistan is 24 and non of them remember what Soviet life was like a mere 22 years ago. Makhmud showed us the main highlights of the city, beginning with a 130 student madrassa that has been converted into a hotel near the west gate. Just passed the madrassa hotel, is the base of a huge mineret. It would have been the largest in the world if the Khan who ordered its construction in 1855 had lived long enough for it to be finished. Even at only 50 feet in height, its dimensions are very impressive and it is covered in turquoise majolica tiles.

We visited the old palace, which is now a museum of the Khorezm Region, of which Khiva is a part. We saw hand made silk paper money from the 16th century made with block prints in Arabic and old Persian. We saw pictures of various Khans including the longest reigning Khan, Muhammid Rakhimkhan (1864-1910), who built schools, lowered taxes and wrote poetry. His secretary happened to be the great, great, great great grandfather of our guide, which explains how our guide’s family came to have a house in the center of town. We explored the harem where the Khan’s 4 wives and their servants lived, outdoor reception rooms with overhanging porticos for shade on hot summer days and platforms for royal yurts that were warm on cold winter days, the secretary’s office where Makhmud’s ancestor worked and a storeroom containing the last Khan’s carriage, a gift from the Tsar. I found the majolica tile work in the harem to be especially intricate and lovely. As palaces go, it was very interesting, especially with the family stories Makhmud was able to add.

We visited a carpet workshop that employs 33 women who are paid for their time rather than their product. The business is sponsored by UNESCO and Operation Mercy. We followed our noses to an outdoor oven where bread was just being peeled off the clay oven walls. It was so good we stood there and ate a bunch along with other tourists.
Then we visited a most attractive mosque, called Juma or Friday Mosque. It was a huge hall with a couple hundred hand carved elm columns supporting a hand painted wooden ceiling. To keep it from being very dark there were two square openings over square gardens. The columns were placed in such a way that worshipers could see the imam from anywhere in the space. Although the mosque has been restored many times, there are still several original 10th century columns.

The old town boasts several complete and appealing minarets, all of which we photographed several times from different vistas in town. The tallest, 49 meters, and newest, 1910, had a multi purpose use. Besides the call to prayer, it was a light beacon for people trying to find their way at night in the desert and a look out to watch for enemies.

Lastly we visited a mausoleum to a 14th century wrestler, Makhmud Pahlavan, who somehow became a holy man. An imam sits inside the carpeted entry room and recites prayers from the Koran to people who come to pray for the holy man’s help. We saw several come in while we were there, pay a small amount, receive a reading, eat a tiny piece of bread and back away.

All along the stone pedestrian streets are vendors peddling trinkets and small wares. There was not the hustle and throng of Bukhara. The whole inner city was exceptionally clean, quiet and relaxed. It was a pleasure to wander around and not get hustled to buy anything. We enjoyed lunch upstairs overlooking part of town from Makhmud’s parents‘ restaurant and were waited on by his sister. That evening we ate in another restaurant that served delicious minced meat filled dumplings. They looked like tortellini and tasted better to me. We watched the last of the vendors pack up as darkness fell and then headed to bed ourselves.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Today we visited three large sites outside the city. The first was most interesting to me as it was a complex centered around the founding sufi master, Bakhauddin Naqshbandi (1318-1389), known as the spiritual protector of Bukhara. Sufiism has its roots in animism as well as the teachings of Islam. In addition to his tomb, there are mosques, a Khonaco, or hostel for dervishes, or Sufi beggars, a teaching facility, tombs of 2 khans and large gardens and orchards. The Soviets closed and blocked the complex to keep people from practicing sufi beliefs. However, it opened again in 1993 and now also contains a conference center and research center, which are under construction. The sufi master believed in studying the Koran until it was completely internalized and practiced in a quiet way. Clothes were of simple wool. Later, sufis split into “Silent Zikers” such as he prescribed, while others became “Loud Zikers”, like the colorful, noisy whirling dervishes we experienced in Konya, Turkey years ago. Most sufis come from the Suni sect of islam.

The second site was the last Emirs’ Summer Palace from 1911 to 1920. Built by the Russians in 1911, the palace was half European, half Oriental The two emirs who occupied the palace were actually puppets of the Russian crown. The palace was the first place in the Bukharan emirate to have electricity. There are collections of gold embroidery, suzani needlework, large porcelain vases and royal robes. We visited the tea house, harem and a guest house as well as the palace, which contained several halls that were reminiscent of castles in Europe. Outside were several large rose gardens in full bloom and a few vendors. We wound up buying two miniature paintings of early Central Asian life.

Lunch was at a nameless truck stop in the village of Chor Bakr. It is famous for its shish kabob, or shashlik, and the lamb kabobs we ate were certainly excellent. The place was two stories tall with dining rooms in several areas including outdoors. There must have been room to serve 200 people at a time and there was not a tourist in sight. Instead, we saw several trucks parked outside. There are outdoor sinks for people to wash their hands before and after eating. Jenia had us arrive early so we could get a table and we were none too soon. In spite of the crowd, the food came pretty quickly although Jenia had to make sure we got what we ordered.

Soon we were on to our last stop, the Sufic Chor Bakr Necropolis, where the Sufic family of Sheikhs beginning in the 16th century is buried. These Sheikhs were the spiritual and political advisors to Emirs and Khanates. They grew very wealthy as power brokers. There are 5 centuries of tombs designated by century in appearance and style. The last person buried there was just before the Soviets took over.

For days we had been talking with Rafcat about his unfinished 4-room inn near our hotel . He wants to sell it but does not know how to go about marketing it. Makhsuma expressed some interest in buying it for her sons and we were curious too, so Rafcat took us all to see it. It is very unfinished and full of construction debris. We all concluded that he needs to clean it up at the very least and then offer it to his neighbors. He wants $50,000 for it as is because it is in a great location near the popular square our hotel is near. We have no point of comparison, but Makhsuma thought it would take a lot more than the $15,000 Rafcat believes, to finish the place.

From his property, it was a short walk to the square and our hotel. We said good bye to Makhsuma, my favorite local guide so far. Although Genia is our main guide and travels everywhere with us, we are assigned a local guide in each city.

On our own, we wandered through the caravansaries and street shops, looking, but not buying. The vendor that most occupied our time was a carpet shop recommended by Genia. The only pieces we liked were Persian and they were priced very high. So we walked out. The best shop we saw anywhere was a large, new antique dealer’s showroom. The presentation was superb. My creative and marketing friends would have approved. It was easy to desire many of the antiques displayed, regardless of the high prices. The owner, Akbar, agreed to sell us one piece we especially liked on our first visit and when we came back to finalize the deal, he said no, he had changed his mind and it was not for sale after all. We thought that was weird, but his English speaking salesman said he falls in love with every old piece he acquires and then cannot part with it. We ended the day empty handed, had soup at the cafe on the square and went to bed.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Today was our day off. We were sure ready for it. Slept in, had a late breakfast and spent the morning reading and writing. In the late morning we went out to buy some of the items we had researched and settled on a large sazani to go on the dining room table. Suzanis are detailed silk embroidery on cotton, wool or silk. We decided on one made of silk on silk and looked a long time for one that appealed to us and will look good in the house. The other popular fabric item is called ikat, which are woven strips of fabric made from tie dyed threads, in cotton or silk. We found some colorful silk ikat and had it attached to the back of the suzani as protection and as a second cloth option.

We passed on lunch and ate an energy bar instead. Bought a bottle of mineral water and sat in the square watching people. In the late afternoon we went to a Hamam for a scrub and a massage. This was the third time we have had one and it was the least appealing of the three. The first was in Turkey 20 years ago and the second was in Winnipeg in March of this year. Those two were very superior to this one. The walls here were made of exposed brick and the floor was made of irregularly sized and placed stones that were very uneven and slick when wet. I had to have help several times to keep from landing on my butt.

The process began with a long and boring sweat in the warm, but steam-less steam room, while Mark got his massage. FInally, another guy showed up to scrub me with a luffa, shampoo my hair, soap down my arms and legs and rinse me off with buckets of warm water. Then he gave me a massage that was both heavy handed and lacking in training. After the massage he rubbed raw ginger all over me and told me to lay down on a hot slab for 5 minutes. I got so hot so fast that I could not stay in one position for more than a minute or two. FInally, I received a couple of buckets of water that cleaned off the ginger and left me feeling cool to the touch, but very warm inside. The whole process took about two hours and I was happy to leave the Hamam for the Tea House across the street, where we had three pots of differently spiced teas and a few sweets. After drinking quite a bit of tea, we walked back to the hotel to drop of our package and then head for dinner at the nearby Savoy Restaurant. We are both being pretty careful about what we eat lately and settled for a Greek salad and chicken for me and ground beef kabobs for Mark. Back at the hotel we packed for our early departure in the morning.

Now I am in the courtyard trying to keep from falling asleep while writing my thoughts.

The biggest insight I have had on this trip is a new understanding for what the sudden death of the Soviet Union meant for the people living through the experience. In the west, I remember that we thought Peristroika was a good thing and that Gorbachov was a great hero. We even gave him the Nobel Peace Prize. Well, the people we have been able to talk to who lived through the post-Soviet transition generally feel very negative about peristroika and Gorbachev. Their entire way of life was uprooted overnight and most people were in a state of shock for some time, even years. Many jobs dried up and most people were out of work. The subsidies they were used to disappeared and they had no where to turn for help. According to Rafcat and Jenia, millions of people died during the early and mid 90’s, often because gangs of people would fight with each other, theft was rampant, food was so scarce people starved, many committed suicide. Life in the 90‘s in all the post-Soviet countries was extremely difficult. When we were in St Petersburg in 1997, I remember that our guide had to report daily to a mafia-like boss or risk loosing her job as a guide. It never occurred to me at the time that her problems stemmed from the fall of the Soviet system. We were only aware that she was afraid to say much to us beyond what her job required.

It is interesting to observe that Rafcat, at 60, was in the prime of his life when the Soviet Union died. He has nothing but good memories from that period and is still very angry that his happy way of life was so suddenly ended. Jenia, at 15, had not yet entered the workforce and was not as distressed by the change. He is much more positive and upbeat that life will continue to improve as time goes by. Makhsuma, at 50, with young adult children and grandchildren, who do not remember life during the Soviet Union, is looking ahead to a new future for her family. Rafcat asked me to imagine what it would be like for me if the USA suddenly stopped, went out of existance, and there was nothing to take its place for a long time. I cannot imagine it, but he is saying that is what happened to him and hundreds of millions of others in post-Soviet countries.

All three of them agree that, as time passes and each country is working to find its way, life is generally improving. Under capitalism, life is a dog eat dog world and one has to swim or sink. Under communism, there was no money to speak of, so people helped each other and found ways to get along.

I would like to write more, but am too tired to think any more. tomorrow we will have an 8 hour drive from Bukhara to Khiva traveling NW along the Silk Road. I hope my luck in sending posts continues, but if not, I will keep writing and post when I can.

The weather is heating up here and tonight, for the first time, I wish we had air conditioning. I hope you are enjoying a lovely spring. We are both experiencing a lingering touch of Montezuma’s revenge, but managing to carry on anyway. Eventually it will pass.

Love and Hugs to you all,
Julia

Saturday, May 4, 2013

We sure had a full day of sightseeing today and I am going to be hard pressed to tell you the differences between one monument and another. They have all run together.

First, for those of you interested in Mark’s health, let me say that he slept through the night and stayed near the bathroom for the first part of the day, missing Timur the Great’s Mausoleum. However, he rallied by late morning and made it through the rest of the sites and even ate a bit of lunch.

Second, Jenia read my last post and suggested I make a correction. The population percentage of urban to rural is not 60/40 as I understood it. It is 50/50. I stand corrected.

Our first site of the day was the Gur-i-Mir or Tomb of the Emir and is the final resting place of Timur (1336-1405). Originally he intended it to be the tomb of his favorite grandson, Muhammad Sultan, who died tragically in 1403. Not long after the grandson was buried, Timur died in 1405 while planning a huge military campaign against Ming China. The tomb became the resting place of both of them, plus two of Timur’s sons, his spiritual teacher and another grandson, Mirzo Uligbek, who built several madrassas and became the finest astronomer of his age.

Born into a Turkicised Mongol family a century after Genghis Kahn, Timur, aka Timur the Lame or “Timurlane” after an arrow struck his right hip and made him lame while he was rustling sheep at the age of 27, deserves a descriptive paragraph. During the following 35 years he created a huge empire from Constantinople and the Mediterranean to India and beyond. He defeated the Ottoman sultan in Ankara, destroyed the Golden Horde on the Kazakh Steppe, and wrested control of trade routes from Delhi to Damascus. According to my reading, his merciless campaigns killed 17 million people. I don’t know about you, but I do not remember ever studying about this giant of a figure in school. He seems to have been in the same league with the likes of Genghis Khan, Mao, Stalin, Hitler and Pol Pots, yet is nearly unknown in the west. Although he spoke Persian and Turkic fluently and respected learned men, he was illiterate, like Genghis Khan. A nomad who lived on the move, he also created some of the world’s best architecture, especially in Samarkand, which became a symbol of his new empire.

Anyway, the tomb is is beautifully decorated with deep blue and turquoise mosaic tiles as well as painted plain tiles called majolica. The entrance portal is very lovely and finely designed. The facade of it is a huge rectangle with narrow side walls. The most interesting and unusual part of the structure is the ribbed dome that is described as having the same number of ribs as Mohammed had years–63–all of which are covered in mosaics. Inside, under the dome, are the tombs which are carved stone blocks in different sizes. Timur’s tomb is solid dark green jade. The bodies are actually buried below the main floor in the same relative location as the tomb stones above. The interior walls also contained mosaic tiles and calligraphy done in gold leaf. The building was most recently restored in 1994. I was told that 4 kilo of gold was used on the walls and I believe it. There were a lot of tourists in the place, most of whom were Central Asian.

We drove back to the hotel, picked up Mark and headed a few blocks away for the highlight of Samarkand, the Registan, or “sandy place”, which is considered the “single most dramatic architectural ensemble in Central Asia” according to our guide book. Laid out in a large square, three massive madrassas face into the square and make an imposing, even breathtaking, statement. Originally a market area where six roads came together, the buildings on the site had deteriorated so significantly over the centuries that it is hard to grasp how much restoration had to be done to bring them to their current, imperfect splendor. Not only had war, neglect and weather taken their toll, but major settling had and continues to occur as a result of such heavy structures being built on sand. The most recent restorations were completed in 1994 and already there is more settling. Drawings from the mid 1800’s provided us with a good depiction of how seriously damaged the buildings had become.

The first madrassa was built in the 15th century by Timor’s grandson, Ulugbek (1394-1449), who was the finest astronomer of his age. His school specialized in scientific studies, some of which he taught himself. Opposite his madrassa is another, built in the 17th century that is unusual for its depiction of tigers, deer and painted faces near the top of its facade. The last was also built in the 17th century. Together, set in a large stone square, they make a very impressive sight.

Ulugbek’s structure (1417-1420) has 109 feet tall columns and is richly decorated with star designs, geometric patterns and stunning mosaic and majolica tilework. The opposite madrassa (1619-1636), gets its fame from the mosaic lions, that look like tigers, that adorn the top of the facade along with the equally heretical faces painted on the lions’ backs. The third madrassa (1646-1660) is wider that the other two, has a huge turquoise tiled dome and magnificent gilded interior. All three buildings are filled with vendors occupying each of the old student quarters. There are many tourists in Samarkand, as this is high season, many of whom are Central Asians. So far we have seen no other recognizable Americans. In one of the stores I saw small ceramic bowls that attracted my attention and later went back and purchased 8 of them. Jenia said I paid too much and will see the same thing in Bukhara for less. Too late now and anyway, I got what I wanted.

From the Registan we walked along a broad pedestrian boulevard to the Bibi Khanum Mosque built by Timur as the Cathedral Mosque (the largest Friday mosque that will hold all the men in the city) of Samarkand in the early 15th century in honor of his chief wife, Saray Mulk Khanum. It was a monumental building planned on a hitherto unseen scale and financed with the spoils of a recent campaign to Delhi in 1398. The 116 feet tall entry arch was flanked by 165 feet tall minarets constructed with the help of imported Indian elephants. The imposing exterior is mostly restored, while the interior has been left un-refinished and was almost as appealing as the restored interiors of other buildings. It was a quiet place with the underlying structure totally exposed along with some of the original designs which can be discerned in the walls. We found it very appealing in its simplicity.

Back on the pedestrian walk we came to a large covered bazaar with open sides that specialized in candy, nuts, wedding candy cakes and other sweets. There were rows and rows of the same items being sold by different vendors. The cakes are made of hard candy with decorations and words in Russian or Uzbek marking the occasion. To eat it you must break off pieces. Vendors kept offering us samples of their wares and gypsies with babies kept asking for som–the Uzbek unit of currency.

Eventually we escaped the bazaar and drove a ways out of town to a paper factory where we watched how silk paper is made. It was similar to the way we have seen paper made in Madagascar and Sri Lanka. In Sri Lanka, the main ingredient was elephant dung and the paper was a bit course. Here, the main ingredient is the membrane layer under the bark of mulberry branches and the result is more refined. The paper is finished by rubbing it with a smooth stone to polish it to a silky finish. Of course, I had to buy some. Lunch was served behind the factory in a lovely courtyard complete with shady trees and flowing water. Our meal consisted of a noodle and meatball soup followed by the usual tomato, cucumber, onion salad and a beef stew with carrots, potatoes and tender chunks of beef. It was all very tasty, but so much and so filling, I am turning into a butter ball.
Back in town, our first stop was the Ulugbek (1394-1449) Observatory, built under his direction during the 1420’s. It was the largest astronomical observatory of the time and helped him correctly reposition 1018 stars in an astronomical catalog that was the first of its kind since Ptolemy. His book “Zidj of Ulebek” , which contained the catalog and a theoretical introduction, became famous in the west when it was published at Oxford in 1648. We saw the excavated remains of a giant quadrant arc and a small museum showing illustrations of his work and copies of his book. I thought the place very interesting.

From there we stopped briefly at the elongated tomb of St Daniel, a legendary figure who is supposedly connected to Islam, Christianity and Judaism as a Biblical prophet. His tomb is at least 50 feet long and has been increased in length as the saint is reputed to continue growing in his tomb.

It was a long day and we had seen more than enough sites. After a short rest in our hotel, Genia took us to a fast food, pizza and pasta place for a culinary diversion. We both appreciated the change and actually enjoyed the spaghetti and pizza. On the way back to the hotel, Rafkat stopped at a large popular fountain where there seemed to be some activity. It was surrounded by young people enjoying the Belagio Hotel like affect of dancing waters, revolving colors and changing music. We enjoyed the scene for awhile, then took a quick look at the Registan and the Gar-i-Mir sites lit softly for night time viewing. Back at the hotel, we dove into bed, with visions of ancient and exotic Samarkand dancing in our head.