Subscribe to this blog02 August 2008
Juli 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 Juli while going through China's East and heading back to Uzbekistan.
 | China's East |
 | Uzbekistan - Reloaded |
Labels: China, Uzbekistan
posted by Reto at
09:35
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31 July 2008
The underground Afghanistan border at Termiz
Any Uzbek would state in surprise "There is nothing to see in Termiz", when you name this city as one of your travel stops. Well, the Chinese say the same about the city of Turpan, which is definitely one of the places I liked most in China. Experience therefore tells me to go and visit a place as soon as the locals tell you "there's nothing to see". And Termiz definitely is worth the journey if you are a fan of archaeological sites and historical ruins. 
Located in a very strategic location, the initial settlement of Termiz is believed to have started about 500 BC. But the actual foundation of the city is usually considered to have taken place under Alexander the Great. Therefore, some historians identify Termiz as a possible site of one of the Alexandrias. The sites we visited were Fayaz Tepa (ancient settlement), ancient Termiz city, the Zurmala Stupa (buddhist monument), Kyrk Kyz (fort), Sultan Saodat (medresa), the Kokildara (medresa) and the downtown Alexander Nevsky Russian Orthodox church. The archeological museum downtown Termiz is - according to the Lonely Planet guidebook - worth alone the visit to Termiz. We were impressed, but as we do not like too much museums, Rustam and I left the place after an hour or so. To sum up, there is a lot to see in Termiz.
During the war in Afghanistan, the Soviet troops were based in Termiz. Nowadays, the German and Dutch forces who are operating in Afghanistan use the city's airbase. Most of the people in Termiz therefore are used to soldiers who spend their money during week-ends in bars and night clubs. We checked out two notable locations: The outdoor club on the rooftop of the "Meridian" hotel. The other one was the "Flamingo", located downtown. The latter one had a sound level which was beyond legal limits in Europe and our ears were still ringing next day. Especially annoying was their DJ - a woman who would love to do a high pitch screech at a Jumbo Jet's volume level every two or three minutes. But the place definitely belongs to the locals and I only got in because of my Uzbek travel companions.
Next to Termiz - on the other side of the Amu Darza river - lies Afghanistan. Until a couple of years ago, there was a tunnel crossing the border below the river. Starting in the old town of Termiz. Unfortunately it collapsed and what remains serves now as prayer location for Muslim women. Given the world's geopolitics, we also wondered how this tunnel would operate in todays conditions. Since nearby Afghanistan serves as a major hub for drugs, Uzbek police checks within Termiz and from/to the city are thorough. In fact, on the road to Termiz I was asked - for the first time - to present all my registration forms proving where I stayed overnight. Although all tourists are used to get these forms upon check-out at the hotel, it is very unusual that any policemen actually ask for them.Labels: Uzbekistan
posted by Reto at
08:10
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26 July 2008
The Qarshi Nexia
There are some roads less travelled in Uzbekistan. One of them took us to Qarshi, which is a small town, about 200km south of Bukhara. Usually tourists do not stop here as this city mostly serves as a southern transport hub connecting half a dozen cities. We went there by "Nexia" which is the casual term for "Shared Taxi" in Uzbekistan. The name is derived from the most common car for this kind of transport, the Daewoo Nexia. Sharing a taxi implies that you have to wait until the car is full (four persons, plus the driver). We bargained hard and therefore arrived late and tired in Qarshi. We decided to stay overnight and explore what was on hand.
The hotel was a true run-down Uzbek guest house without running water in the bathroom and the dubious mix of guests who stay for an hour or so. Nevertheless, the price was attractive as the girls who stayed there and we decided to drink enough Vodka for dinner to be able to sleep. Another noticeable feature in this hotel was the shared air-conditioning with the neighboring room. This was achieved by having a hole in the separation wall for placing the cooling device. Half of it would cool our room, the other half was for the room next to ours. We didn't try what would happen, if we would unplug the mains (which were located in our room). But the hole in the wall provided entertainment with enough sound clarity that we did not need to switch on our television set (which probably did not function anyway).
However, discovering the city was quite fun. Some of the sites are the central downtown area where the locals walk along a park with a dozen of fountains during sunset. Another hangout seems to be the amusement park, located next to the bazaar. There are some historic buildings, most of them Medressas, such as the Khoja Abdul Aziz Madrassah and the Rabiya Madrassah. As any other town of significance, Qarshi has also a World War II memorial and a crying mother monument. As it was Monday during our stay, we cannot comment on night clubs as they are all closed on that day. Nevertheless, there is a very good restaurant (serving very good Vodka): the "Appelsin" (Orange). Actually, this place made our stay worthwhile and we definitely recommend it to anyone "stranded" in Qarshi.
Uzbeks call cotton the "white gold" as this produce contributes significantly to their economy. Another "goldmine" is the natural gas production, which can be witnessed along many roads in the south. Needless to say that many cars and buses run on this kind of fuel, which is extremely cheap. Most buses therefore have gas tanks strapped to their roof. And cars - who seem to have been converted to this fuel - have their gas tanks mostly in the boot. There is no problem in finding service stations providing this pressurized gas, but seeing drivers unloading luggage from the boot before being able to fuel their car is a most unusual sight. Anyhow, we survived the hotel in Qarshi surprisingly well and were quickly back on the road through southern Uzbekistan. Again, we spent a lot of time bargaining for the next leg of our trip - but since this city is a major transport hub, finding a cheap transport was swift.
Labels: Uzbekistan
posted by Reto at
08:03
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17 July 2008
Uzbekistan reloaded: Smiling in a civil panic in Bukhara
The trip from Beijing to Tashkent on Uzbekistan Airways was the first flight on my journey. And it was a very comfortable trip on a brand new aircraft with a very friendly crew. Right after arrival in Tashkent, I ran through the usual administrative stuff: Getting local money and a local phone card. And a ticket for next day's high-speed train to Bukhara. Then I settled savoring Uzbek Samsa's which I bought off the street next to my hotel. And being able to buy the first sparkling water in months gave me a big feeling of comfort.Arriving back to Uzbekistan was like a coming home for me. The air was clean, fresh and breathable. The weather - although also in the 40's as in China - was dry and thus much more bearable. And the food is just perfect here. Needless to say that I am smiling a lot these days.
Since my last visit three months ago, the national phone company "Coscom"
has been sold twice and now belongs to a Turkish conglomerate. They launched the brand "U Cell", which has nice ads and beautiful colors. So I went with that company for my new mobile phone card. Call rates from mobile phone are anyway cheap - no matter which provider - at around $0.01 to $0.03 a minute within Uzbekistan. On the other hand, there are no subsidies for mobile phones. Even a two year old, big and fat Nokia phone starts at $60. This makes even a fake import phone from China a premium device.
The same evening, I called Rustam in Bukhara, whom I met back in April, to give him my arrival details. He was upset about the fact that I took the train instead of the bus. Although he insisted very strongly that the bus would be a much better travel option, I was not keen changing my travel plans, since I had already paid for the railway ticket. Trains to Bukhara stop about 15 km short of the town, in the neighboring city of Kagan. There, you'd take a taxi or Marshrutka to reach the destination. Since I knew the area, changing mode of transport would definitely not be a big deal and after hanging up the phone I was wondering why Rustam would make such a fuzz about taking the direct bus instead.Next day, my train arrived on schedule at the Kagan terminal station. The atmosphere in the coach was quite strange and I saw other passengers talking about me, hesitating whether they wanted to speak to me or not. I decided to ignore them, since many times I've been approached this way, just to learn about some "friend" who would be able to give me "special price" (read: overcharge) for lodging or transport. On the platform, the train station looked eerie. Many policemen and security guards were looking at everyone unboarding. I tried to call Rustam who - for reasons yet unknown to me - would not want to meet me at the station. But cell phone service was down - with a strange message: "Network blocked". I blamed my new SIM card and went to the station square to pick up a taxi. But there were no vehicles - only us passengers and heavy security force. Everyone seemed to walk like ants towards the road to Bukhara. Many locals were shouting and trying to use their cell phones as well - to no avail.
This was definitely unusual and I knew that somehow I was stuck in a place I really should not be right now. So I decided to follow the crowd and immersed in the ant colony. After walking for about five minutes, I spotted a couple of unmarked buses which everybody tried desperately to go on. So I did - and I managed to squeeze in a Marshrutka with my backpack. One Uzbek on board the bus started talking to me in broken English: "You know what going on?". I replied "No, what's the problem?". He then said "You go back. You not go Bukhara. Must take Taxi back to Samarkand. Now!" Definitely, there was some kind of major problem in this region and I tried to figure out what had happened. Everyone seemed to try to put me on a cab away from this place and I saw families with children and luggage walking in the opposite direction as we drove towards Bukhara.
At a police checkpoint near a major road crossing, all the Marshrutka's had to stop and all passengers were ordered to disembark. The place looked like a gigantic bazaar with hundreds of people and policemen. The guy from the Marshrutka, Ali, still following me was begging me to return back and avoid going to Bukhara. But I insisted to continue to Bukhara and told Ali that Rustam and his family were waiting for me in Bukhara. Moreover, I figured out that I had enough water to walk the remaining 10 km with my backpack - if really needed. Ali understood my determination and he gave in by showing me a way around the police checkpoint. After the checkpoint, he helped me to stop one of the very sporadic taxis and I joined as fifth passenger - clinging onto the backpack which was loosely put on the cab's roof. Finally, I made it to Lyabi-Hauz - a tourist area in Bukhara, where I would certainly find a place to stay. Only a handful of people were on the streets. But my phone worked again and I called Rustam who met me a couple of minutes later. He helped me to manage cheap accommodation. Later we settled for some tea in a Chaikana where I finally got an explanation about what was going on. There was a bomb attack about one week ago in Kagan and many families were leaving Bukhara, because rumor said that there would be a bomb attack tonight in Bukhara. It was unknown whether terrorists or the Afghan government was behind the original attack on Kagan. I was in disbelief.
Strangely enough, police drove around town in cars. But why would they let tourists visit the area while locals were leaving? So, I decided to wait for "the bomb" - while Rustam's family evacuated. His mother insisted in vain that I should leave town with them and stay at their grand-parents home, about 30 km from Bukhara. Maybe I am too naive - but then again: After having been in the middle of a civil unrest in the Congo, this definitely was not as a crisis situation here. It looked more like an orchestrated panic among uninformed locals.Although I was supposed to be waiting for the big bang, I fell asleep very quick that evening. Next morning, I had breakfast at my guest house. Nothing had happened and I decided to look up this mystery in the Internet. It turns out that on July 10th, an ammunition depot blew up in Kagan (ABC News, BBC News), killing and injuring a lot of people. There was no mention of this news when I was back in Tashkent and I guess the fact that the Uzbek government decided to keep reports about this incident away from Uzbeks in other regions just had contributed to the general panic.
As by the time of this writing, Bukhara looks very normal again with regular crowds of tourists, hawkers and locals. The real news story of the week was my first sun burn on this journey which I caught on a small trip to a neighboring lake. The Chinese sun block definitely does not work in Central Asia. But I'll keep my smile (and buy a real sun block from the store here in Uzbekistan).
Labels: Uzbekistan
posted by Reto at
08:42
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01 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 |
 |
| 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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22 April 2008
Eldorado in Bukhara and Disneyland in Khiva
Unfortunately it is time to say good-bye to Uzbekistan. My tourist visa dictactes that I'll have to be out of the country within the next five days. I haven't been blogging during the last week for two reasons: Internet speed and lack of time because of the overwhelming number of historical sites in Bukhara and its suburbs.Slow Internet connection speeds simply do not allow any "Ajax"-based applications to run. Blogger, Gmail and Facebook are unusable. Where websites have mobile alternatives (like Facebook at http://m.facebook.com), their trimmed down mobile interface loads OK at 56KBit. But shame on Gmail: Their mobile interface cannot be used from a web browser (at least I could not find anything). Gmail has an alternative "Ajax"-free login (called HTML Login), but that proposed alternative only shows up, when Gmail times out after about five minutes.
Needless to say that I had better things to do and I therefore used Facebook a bit more to update my whereabouts.The first day in Bukhara, I bumped into a local student - Rustam - who was selling postcards. He offered me to show the city and sites for a small nominal fee. He is eager to learn English and I was eager to view a maximum of things in a minimum amount of time. After three days in Bukhara, I stayed another extra night, because Rustam had introduced me to his friends and family and I was completely immersed in the Uzbek daily life and culture.
During that time I repaired two computers - actually without Internet connection. People here go to the Internet cafe, download data on their USB sticks at analogue speed and then take the data home. Needless to say that exchanging data among friends is very common - and hence a lot of computers are virus infected. My USB-stick (with the PortableApps also got infected and I need to re-download the entire suite of photo-editing programs, ftp programs, etc. as soon as a fast Internet connection (probably in Alma-Ata) shows up.
The best Plov (a local Uzbek rice speciality) was definitely cooded by Rustam's mother, where I was invited for dinner. After dinner, we went to a local club where I was the only tourist: The "Eldorado". They actually had very good dance tracks and we smoked water-pipes, danced and ate in a "loungy" setting there. On the day of departure, again I was sad having to move on to the town of Khiva. Bukhara is by far the best city I have seen in Uzbekistan.Roads at night are pitch black here - there is little to no illumination, even on boulevards. That would not really pose a problem, but the round potholes (somebody seems to do a business with the iron pothole covers) just are open for anyone to fall in. There are a lot of other obstacles as well, so I learned very quickly the word "Ashta Roschna" (which seems to mean "Watch out") this week. Also, I picked up a couple of easy Uzbek words. The reaction by greeting someone here stating "Asalam aleikum" or saying thank you ("Rahmat") is stunning. People's eyes light up and it is almost as if these words might give you a ten percent discount on souvenirs.
On the road to Khiva (in a shared taxi, which Rustam and his friend Sharkzhod organised), I didn't speak much to the driver. On one hand I knew that he completely ripped me off with the fare, and on the other side, I wasn't in the mood.Khiva - to make a long story short - is the Disneyland for Mausoleums, Medressas and the like. Everything here is well preserved, abolutely clean and shiny. There is even entertainment for the kids, while parents visit a museum. I met here two Spanish guys and a girl, as well Daniel - an Australian who is loosely following along the same track and whom I met back in Samarkand. All of us actually hated the overdone preservation. But we made most out of it and visited the "inofficial" Khiva, where we shot plenty of pictures of people and how they live here.
One thing which is striking, is the number of French people visiting Uzbekistan. Everywhere, you can hear French - even the kids begging for free stuff, approach the tourists by stating "bonbon" or "stylo". Actually, begging kids are an indicator for how much the place is spoiled. And Khiva is very spoiled. There were less beggars in Bukhara and Samarkand - none in Tashkent.Labels: Uzbekistan
posted by Reto at
07:38
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13 April 2008
Along the Golden Road to Samarkand
Sweet to ride forth at evening from the wells
When shadows pass gigantic on the sand,
And softly though the silence beat the bells
Along the Golden Road to Samarkand.
James Elroy Flecker
What a change a three hour high-speed train journey can make. The train from Tashkent to Samarkand is up to Swiss railway standards. Actually 2nd class is almost like 1st class back home. Upon arrival in Samarkand, I checked into my Bead & Breakfast which is conveniently located in the middle of the old town and a stone throw from the greatest monuments I have seen so far in Uzbekistan. Changed 50 dollars in the local currency - which gives me a heavy stack of money I have to carry in the backpack as the wallet is simply too small for this volume.
Unfortunately, it is a rainy day - but somehow the monuments still are breathtaking. Books can not describe how beautiful the Registan, Gur Amir and other historical monuments along the silk road are in reality. I fear that my plans to stay only two nights in Samarkand will not be enough, but the impending visa expiry date leaves not much room to shift dates. Samarkand is very touristic and there are a handful of French and British tourists here. 
It seems that my yesterdays paparazzi session at the Chorsu market back in Tashkent was met by a friendly revenge from the Uzbek tourists here in Samarkand. School kids (mostly girls, sigh...) went crazy and asked me to be in their group photo. So I complied and smiled into at least thirty-plus pictures. There were even some adults who absolutely wanted a picture with me. After a while I started to ask them whether I could have a picture of them as well. So I have a nice collection of pictures featuring me among total strangers. Weird. One teen girl from a family was running after me with her elder brother and gave me a souvenir she just bought (with the few money she had) and told me that this should always remember me of her. That is overwhelming and it really made my day on top of a day which is already almost perfect (but for the rain).
There is no need to reiterate my excitement about Uzbekistan. You've read raves about it yesterday and you know that I love it here. So I am putting a bit of balance by naming some of the downsides: Unemployment rate is high and many Uzbeks work abroad. Even when they have jobs, they are poorly paid. This results in absurd situations: As an example, the entrance fee to the Registan monument is 6500 sum at the counter. And policemen are guarding that no one accesses the area without ticket. However, if you are patient enough, you'll spot corrupt policemen who will let you through the same gates which they are supposed to guard, by paying a small fee (around 3000 sum).
Although the country is plentiful of resources, most of it is exported instead of being processed here in factories. The result is that Uzbekistan imports almost everything at foreign prices.
Waste disposal - especially the education about it - seems to be a general problem here and in Russia. For example: The waste on trains is disposed by throwing it between the carriages platform on the tracks (or out of the windows). When I saw this first on the Tashkent Express I couldn't believe my eyes. Therefore, along any rail track, there are heeps of PET bottles, papers and other rubbish - which is a pity. Police presence in this country is absolutely striking. It seems as if fifty percent of the workforce is being employed by the police. But they are generally friendly and - as a result - it is very safe here by any means. Although Uzbekistan is being perceived as dangerous terrain abroad, the only real danger here is to be overcharged by dishonest taxi drivers.
No woder I love Uzbekistan and the Uzbek people - with all the shortcomings and I surely could live here. But I'll have to continue along the Golden Road and move on. It will be hard for any other upcoming country along my journey to surpass what I have experienced here.
Labels: Uzbekistan
posted by Reto at
17:31
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12 April 2008
Spice boys and backstreet girls
Tashkent, the Uzbek's capitol is a welcome refreshment after having been experiencing Moscow's pollution loaded streets. So far, each evening, there is some light rainfall which cleans the air and waters the trees. The result is quite spectacular: Fresh air, green trees and a unique smell of grass is greeting me every morning during sunrise.Currently, I am staying at a small hotel in a single room, since the budget allows for this. Tashkent is inexpensive - although most prices have doubled since the print of the "Lonely Planet" (LP) guidebook. Uzbek money comes in "Sum" with the biggest bank note coming at 1000 Sum. Since one US dollar currently equals about 1300 Sum, it is obvious that there is a stack of bank notes needed throughout the daily life. Some ATM simply can't cope with the sheer mechanical burden of having to output in average 50 banknotes for a 45$ worth of withdrawal. After some searching, I finally found one Visa ATM in a five star hotel which hands out at most 20'000 Sum ($18). But this gets me actually quite far: A 1.5 liter bottle of coke comes at 600 sum (45 cents), the average meal comes at about 2'500 sum (2 dollars). And there is another positive aspect since everyone has small bank notes: There is no need to search where to split large bank notes before going out (a burden which was actually quite present in Russia).
Many tourists do not like Tashkent, stating that it is not representative of the whole country. Lots of places are newly renovated and all tourist areas are spotless clean. I personally have no problem with that so far. It is a welcome change after Moscow and it seems to me that Tashkent provides the perfect setting to get immersed in an oriental setting before continuing to Samarkand.And I say this loud and proud: Tashkent has a nicer underground metro than Moscow's (which is highly overrated). It is a shame that picture taking there is not allowed for matters of Uzbek national security. Police patrols are omnipresent in the metro and I got stopped so far two times for document control - both which went without incident after all papers (passport and visa) checked out fine.
The city is mostly divided between an old town containing historical sites and an absolutely faboulus market (Chorzu) - and the new part of the city celebrating new age heroes and the current president. Yes, Uzbek history has quite some spots, but the mentionned guidebook is - for my taste - a bit too cynical about it. If you want to read about Uzbek history, get another good book (as I did). The LP for "Central Asia" (containing Uzbekistan) just is useful for street maps and lists of hostels.However, I admit, that Timur was a better source of information during the journey to Tashkent and I might be a bit biased. While here, I was (and am) eating as much as I can (hope mum reads this), since Timur gave me a list with Uzbek meals I absolutely should try. Actually, the smell of fresh bread and grilled shashlik is omnipresent throughout the city - especially during lunch time. This is as good as it gets and I could easily overstay. But I'll have to move on.
Being in a hotel comes with a disadvantage though: I am roaming the streets here on my own (but at my pace) without other backpackers. That is just fine right now as it is a welcome change. But for my next town, Samarkand, I have arranged a B&B accomodation (seems to be famous there). Actually, I'll be leaving tomorrow morning at 7am local time on the high-speed train linking Tashkent and Samarkand. The ticket for this three and a half hour journey would have cost in first class the excessive amount of 22'500 sum ($20). This is why I got only second class for 11'100 sum (leaving the conversion calculation up to you).I'll surely miss the spice boys and the backstreet girls from Chorzu market in Tashkent. They kept me and my camera busy for most of today. It was actually my first bazaar, where I wasn't constantly being harassed by aggressive salespeople to buy something. Uzbekistan is definitely different - in a positive way.
Labels: Uzbekistan
posted by Reto at
13:56
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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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