Subscribe to this blog01 May 2008
April in Review: More Pictures
By clicking on the respective album picture, you should be taken to a small selection of exclusive pictures which I have taken during the month of April while being in Moscow and Uzbekistan.
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| Moscow |
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| Uzbekistan |
Labels: Kazakhstan, Russia, Uzbekistan
posted by Reto at
11:10
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24 April 2008
Modern Talking to Almaty
Uzbeks and Kazakhs are rivals since their countries were formed. There is some underlying mild hostility when talking of each other's neighbouring country. Being a tourist in a train running from Nukus (Uzbekistan) to Almaty (Kazachstan) is therefore a bit a diplomatic chess play. Being in the region now for almost a month, I can tell Uzbeks and Kazakh apart by simply looking at their faces. But there are Kazach-looking people living in Uzbekistan and vice versa. So it is best, when a uncomfortable question arises ("which of both countries do you prefer?"), to play the "Niet panimayou" (I don't understand in Russian) game. To readers of this blog it is probably clear, where my preference lies.The animosity between these two strong Central Asian countries probably dates back as far as the times of the warlords Genghis Khan and Timur (Tamerlane). Timur is the national hero of Uzbekistan and sure every city has a statue of him somewhere. Make no mistake, their national hero was not short of any kind of brutality towards his own people, same as it was with Genghis Khan. Somehow, in the Western hemisphere, we tend to know only the latter of these two warlords. But I promised to myself, that I would pick up somewhere a book about Timur, because the abstracts I read in various guide books and Uzbek museums are intriguing and I do want to know more about this aspect of Uzbek history.
Sadly, I had to leave this beautiful country and made my way from Khiva to Tortkul station where I boarded the train coming from Nukus (city in the western Uzbek desert). On the 50km taxi ride to said train station, we crossed a river over a makeshift steel plates bridge (which I already crossed on the way in from Bukhara to Khiva). I have no idea why the drivers have to pay a toll to cross this kind of structure. Maybe it is to pay the salaries of the dozen steel workers constantly soldering the crackling plates to keep them together - or if it contributes to a fund for a new bridge. One of the miracles which will remain open, since I still don't speak enough Uzbek.For the ride to Almaty in Kazachstan, my budget decided to go "Platzkartny" (I didn't have enough cash when buying the ticket), which essentially means a dormitory-style sleeping car. There is a sort of culture shock, when you first board such a car, especially if it is not along a tourist route. In Russia (and the former federations), train numbers that are lower, are more luxurious - meaning that single digit train numbers (like train number 7) are the best. My train in the Uzbek outback had number 321 and I chose, as mentioned, 3rd class (Platzkartny). All the guidebooks tell you to avoid this train by all means because of filth and lack of comfort. Sounds like something that I had to try.
Upon boarding, the Provodnitza directed me to Mischa, who remained very quiet about his professional background throughout the journey. He assigned me another seat than the one I booked and I figured out that some seat shuffling had happened before the train had arrived. Despite my reserved seat I was an unexpected passenger. Together with Mischa, we slept on the hard bench on top of the two bunk beds - usually this is the space where luggage is placed. But it was actually OK and I decided not to insist on my seat. Later, I figured out that the whole shuffling was done to help a young pregnant women. Throughout the ride, Mischa took great care of me in facilitating many things for me. Uzbek hospitality extends to the point where people will follow you to the toilet just to make sure you don't get mugged or police-checked on the way there or back (usually to go to the toilet, you have to leave the building and do your stuff in a shed behind the house). This was the case back in Bukhara, where I was so annoyed being constantly followed by one of my "bodyguards" when taking a leak in the dance club, that I decided to try sneaking to the toilet when my Usbek friends were out of sight. I felt like a six year old boy trying to discover the shopping mall without his mum. To no avail. Each time they would run after me and upon leaving the toilet, I would find one of my mates patiently waiting in front of the door and making sure that I would get back to the dance floor unharmed.
On the train to Almaty, this was exactly the same case. Mischa seemed to be the "bodyguard" assigned to me. But this time, I was quite thankful to have such a person. On the first day, Mischa went into great "hello" and loud chats with the border guards - both the Uzbek and Kazach ones - and they were equally pleased to see him. He usually would leave the train, have a smoke and hug his buddies, while the rest of the passengers were under the scrutiny of border control. Being under Mischa's wings, I made the smoothest transit into another country so far - although it still was very lengthy one (three hours in total). The second morning on the train, I got bugged by some older guys coming over to our car. They spotted me and decided that I should go and watch some porn movies on their laptop, have vodka and smoke pot with them. The oldest of them made sure that I understood how many wars he had fought in Afghanistan, Iran, Irak and Vietnam and he was clearly drunk. I talked them into not watching porn, not smoking pot and drinking coffee instead of vodka. But things got a bit strange and I decided to go back to our Platzkartny car. The drunks followed me and this is when I figured out that Mischa must be some kind of Police or Militsia guy travelling on a private journey. He asked me twice whether I wanted to drink vodka with the other guys - which I twice firmly denied. He then stood up and ordered - quite loudly - all the drunks out of our car. And they left without discussion and didn't come back to the carriage.
On a quieter note, my Nokia E61 does facilitate a lot of conversations when being on the train, since it is loaded with Russian video clips from my Moscow - Tashkent trip, plus heeps of my own music. During all the trips so far, people would make me listen to "Modern Talking" as soon as they learn that I am from Schwitsarya (Switzerland) - assuming that this must be a Swiss group. It is as if mobile phones come pre-loaded with their song "You're my heart, you're my soul". Other famous (mobile phone) music here is 50 Cent, Eminem and the various Doctors and DJ's. My music taste (alternative & mainstream rock) is not really compatible with the locals. Although everybody knows Linkin Park, they start to look puzzled when playing Foo Fighters, Radiohead, Seether or Atreyu. So I go with the sound of the locals and look pleased (with a lot of effort) when they play Madonna, Enrique, 50 Cent or Eminem. But the hardest of smiling efforts is definitely made when I have to listen to Modern Talking at full volume from a (fake) Nokia mobile phone loudspeaker. Both is actually very common here: Fake Nokia's at bargain prices (the N95 costs about $10), and walking in the street playing music from a cell phone. In the 80's we got Ghettoblasters. In 2008 they've got Ghettophones. Same behaviour - different technology.
So here I am now in Almaty. It is a very beautiful, but also very expensive town. This city will definitely be worth a visit for a longer week-end flight whenever I earn some good cash in the future. The landscape having 5000m high mountain ranges right behind the city is stunning. And it is a very modern, cosmopolitan city. No need to search for money - ATM's are everywhere. Modern streets, buildings and supermarkets. But all that comes at a price. I am staying in a dormitory at over $40 a night which clearly is out of my budget. Originally, I had planned to stay five nights here - kind of a buffer stay to get things done - before heading up north to Siberia. But the cost make me leave within less than 24 hours, which turns out to be perfect: The days I overstayed in Uzbekistan are compensated and I am back to the original dates of the travel plan.
Labels: Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan
posted by Reto at
17:19
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11 April 2008
Tashkent Express
The last day in Moscow started uneventful. In the morning, I did some shopping for the four day journey on the train and stocked some fruit and cup noodles. For lunch, I went back to the hostel where two roommates, Jeremie and Mark, were hanging out with two Canadian girls from the other dorm. We all decided to visit the city, since everyone was somehow preparing to leave either into the direction of Mongolia or Europe.This turned out to be an unexpectedly funny day where we finished hanging out like the Russians do: We got a couple of beers and settled in a park and spend most of the time chatting, joking and watching people.
After that, I went a bit dizzy to the station to catch the train bound for Tashkent (Uzbekistan) due to leave a quarter to midnight. There, I stocked up some water and a bottle of three litres of beer for the trip. Not that I needed the alcohol, but I knew from other travel reports, that drinking Vodka on the train is quite common and I wanted to "bring in" some kind of token for a potential party. As it turned out, I was quite right about this.
Upon approaching the train's platform, there was some shouting going on and at least a dozen train officials were running into my direction. As it turned out later, this was a thief who tried to mug a "Provodnitsa" (train assistant). But at that moment, I had flashbacks to riots in which I got stuck back in Brazzaville (Congo). It was the same noise, the same shouting and the same sudden rush of a crowd. Needless to say that my adrenaline was high and for a second I had some doubts whether I was doing the right thing here.
However, I continued to walk on the platform and went on along the carriages to look for coach eight - which was my coach. The provodnitsa asked me from which country I came from and looked first at my ticket, then let me enter the car. After putting down the bags in the empty four-bed compartment, I decided that I needed some air and went out on the platform to take some pictures and wander around - always having an eye on who entered or left the carriage. Suddenly a big fat guy in uniform was grabbing me on the shoulder and pointed me to my carriage. There I could see the horrified provodnitsa who went into a big Russian talk and making gestures telling me to go immediately back to the car. Later, I found out that there is a lot of stealing going on and she simply wanted me to watch my belongings and therefore did not want me to stay on the platform. Actually this uneventful story (to me at least) became sort of running gag among the other passengers on the train who were in sheer disbelief that I would have so much confidence in the Russian railways and thus leave my bags unattended.
After the train's departure, the provodnitsa was worried about my safety and therefore she put me in a compartment with a 27 year old Uzbek, Timur, who was travelling home after an extended period away. He spent part of his childhood in the U.S. and therefore we had no problems to make conversation. Timur was the only person speaking English in our car (and probably in the whole train). He introduced me to people, translated stories and jokes, gave me hints for Uzbekistand, chased the salespeople away from our compartment and ordered some Uzbek meals to our compartment. Moreover, he helped me to fill in the various customs forms along the route which all are in Russian only and he helped to ease customs control. Last but not least, he organized a Taxi for me upon arrival at Tashkent and gave instructions to the driver to drive me only to cheap hotels - in case my hotel would be fully booked.
Timur also intoduced me to Sergej, who was a sailor for the Russian marine, then based in Murmansk, Russia. He told short stories and jokes. And on the third night, the three of us would start drinking vodka. During that, Sergej explained how they would smuggle alcohol on board a ship (where drinking was forbidden). They used seringes to inject vodka into melons or other fruit. Or they would extract alcohol from glue or shoe polish. I don't post the recipes here to make the story short.By the third and fourth day of the trip, everyone had become somehow friend with every other passenger. And Timur was quite amused how the other people were in disbelief about me roaming the world for a full year, alone - not being married nor having children. Tourists aren't very common on this route. My provodnitsa told that I am her fifth tourist this year - on her twelvth trips so far in 2008. She met a French couple some weeks ago and was consequently reiterating the few words she learned from them. She also exchanged some videos between her mobile phone and mine. Actually, exchanging videos or ringtones over Bluetooth is quite common and I now have a nice collection of Russian and Uzbek songs and video clips on my phone.
It would be an understatement to say that I was just lucky in many respects during this journey. Our car was by far the funniest one and time flew as we crossed Russia and the Kazakh steppe. When I went for a visit to see in reality the "Platzkartny" cars (3rd class), I had to transit a lot of other cars. All of them were quiet and people were either dozing or reading. Our car was full of card playing, joke telling, a bit of beer or vodka drinking people who were absolutely nice. Thanks to my "cool" provodnitsa and Timur, this train ride will be an unforgettable memory. There are some more stories in my paper diary which covers the trip more in detail. Space is limited here and to be honest - I don't want to spend too much time in Internet cafes. As by the writing of this, I have arrived in Tashkent and decided to extend my stay here for one day. I miss a bit the fun of the train, Timur, Sergej and my cool provodnitsa - but I got - in exchange for them - a city which is absolutely beautiful, green and full of sights.
Border crossings were smooth - although each of them lasts between one or two hours during which the train stops. Without these administrative stops, the whole trip probably could be shortened by a full day. We covered about 3500km during the four day journey. Although transiting into Kazachstan was a pleasant experience (I had a relaxed chat with an English speaking customs official), the exit from Kazachstan was less pleasant. Not for me, but for passengers on another train. We could watch how the Kazakh border control made Uzbek people lining up alongside a train to check their luggage. After they paid some small fee, they could re-enter their train. Timur told me that he was very happy to be with me in the compartment, because customs would never do this to a tourist and somehow I seemed to act as a shield as the authorities do not want to spread a bad image among foreigners of how abusive officials can be. For my part, I was happy to have been able to contribute at least somehow a small bit in return, if my presence really acted as "protection". Because on that trip, I enjoyed both Russian and Uzbek hospitality. Both of which I will keep a long time in memory.
Labels: Kazakhstan, Russia, Uzbekistan
posted by Reto at
10:44
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