Yesterday I felt off. Unsettled. Uneasy.
And for the first time in a while, so incredibly disappointed and let down. I had been so full of love coming here, but yesterday I felt so depleted and empty.
In the afternoon I went with Malika to the bazaar to get some things. We had to get a potato, and the proprietress said I'm a guest, and that it was her gift to me.
After work I wanted to be alone. I went back to one of my favorite restaurants where I sometimes chat with the owner.
But even that felt off. Something was already different.
I realized it's time to go. I had been fighting so hard to stay for a while. But I feel it. It's time.
Coming here I felt I couldn't move forward in my life without this experience. I still think it was right.
I couldn't have had this experience unless I was alone.
But being alone, I also realized how much I love having people in my life. Strangers, passerby-ers, cab drivers.
It's the moments. Those few seconds where your lives intertwine, and you share that smile or laugh.
In a sense, it's almost deeper and more enriching than lengthy conversations with close friends you've known for ever. (I wouldn't trade these for anything in the world either though - I'm just saying).
But definitely. It's the moments.
Monday, July 21, 2008
How do you describe when 2 things come together without knowing. All they know is that they want to come together.
How do you explain something that isn't rational. But life for some couldn't be without it otherwise.
And how do you capture into words something you may never say outloud.
It's been an amazing morning.
How do you explain something that isn't rational. But life for some couldn't be without it otherwise.
And how do you capture into words something you may never say outloud.
It's been an amazing morning.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Nomads, and etc.
My time here is slowly coming to an end. Just a few days ago I was trying to stay for another year. Now I feel it is the right thing to return.
On Fri I had a hilarious day with Malika. I went to get napkins and there was a tiny stack. I said is this all that's left? She said, you know, I only put a little, because if I put a lot, X person takes a lot and when our boss asks for some there are none left.
I laughed so hard. I asked my male co-workers what they would do. They logically said they would put out all the napkins. To me this was the difference between a man and a woman, and how clever women can be. Farkhad said Malika is getting smarter and smarter, and that women are better at conserving things from what he's seen with his mom.
Malika took me to lunch at an Andijon plov place where we sat on tapchangs while we ate our meal. We also looked at the small Korean grocery stores across the street. I had some things on my mind and she said there was a fortune teller nearby, and that maybe we could go. It turns out it was an Armenian lady who reads by cards. Well, Malika was translating for me so there were certain things I couldn't answer or say. But it was an interesting and what felt to be an authentic reading. While we were waiting in the waiting room boom, Malika's mom called, and about a minute later we saw a large shadow at the door trying to make her way in. She came in with a disapproving look. I couldn't stop laughing. Her mother was so smart, it was like she has this sonic radar. I joked that wherever Malika is her mother can just sense it and find her. I told them I felt so safe, that it was like having a body guard. We went for some ice cream and then returned to the office.
Saturday night after I went to the mountains I went back to one of my favorite Korean restaurants here for dinner. The owner is the sweetest woman. We've chatted a bunch of times over the last 2 months, and she is someone I would have enjoyed conversing with and hanging out with anywhere else as well. She came into the room where I was eating and brought the cutest baby kitten ever. I have never been a fan of cats but this kitten was beautiful. The mother cat had come in as a stray. She said when it was "time" she didn't want it to mate or meet a male cat, so she would take a stick and always chase around to find the cat when it went outside. Even her husband started following suit to find the cat. But she said, just as parents can't prevent their children from going with the one they love, her beloved cat found another shop owner's cat, got "married", and was soon pregnant thereafter.
Oddly enough, before she told me which was which, I could guess 2/3 kittens genders. Even from such a small age the female acted so much differently than her brothers.
Today I went to the mountains. I originally came here to find nomads and yurts and see natural surroundings. I couldn't leave without finding my nomads.
I wasn't sure if my co-worker would oversleep, so I had a back up plan just in case. Fortunately, he showed up with our driver 40 min late and we were off.
On our way to the mountains I saw these beautiful blankets or rugs, I couldn't tell. I asked them waht they were, and I think they could tell by my voice I was genuinely intrigued. The driver drove back and it turns out they were "yo's". We have these in Korea too. The best way to describe them is an old fashioned mattress. Stuffed with real cotton (I think), a cover is then made and you put them on the floor and sleep on them. They also go on top of the tap-changs I so love here.
I had to get one though. I could envision myself rolling it out on the floor wherever I live and lying on it while watching tv or doing homework and just rolling around.
Also on our way we saw some gorgeous animals. Cows, horses, donkeys, lambs, sheep. There was a herd of sheep on our way, and the driver was kind enough to pull over. I got out of the car and frolicked with them and took as many pictures as I could. Eventually they went their way, with a small barking dog and an older man and his son following from behind.
We went to Beldersay and took a tram up to the mountains. While waiting in line I saw something so characteristic of the people here. A man had a melon under his arm randomly while waiting in line for the tram. Though it's incredibly hot right now in Tashkent due to Chilla, the mountain air was so cool and refreshing. On the top we met some nomads finally! These were Kazak nomads. To make money they allow tourists to ride their horses for a short while. I got the feisty horse who wouldn't listen. Fortunately, the owner walked with us so there weren't any problems. But I can't tell you the feeling of riding a horse on top of a mountain while looking out to all the surrounding mountains. It was completely majestic.
There was also something I am always a sucker for. While I shouldn't be surprised to find it here, I was so delighted when I did. There was a wishing tree on top of this mountain, made with torn pieces of fabric. In Japan I went to a wishing tree in a temple where you bought these beautiful wooden tablets. But here, you tied a piece of fabric to the tree and hoped for the best.
My co-worker who went with me, Kozim, was awesome. He is so good talking to people, and was able to eventually located another nomad woman who had a yurt. She too was Kazak and while she lived in a trailer just next to the yurt, she also had a turkey, 2 horses, and offered us some horse milk to drink.
We went to the Pyramid Hotel to look around, and came across another Kyrgy nomad. I took a picture with him too, and afterwards, he rode out into the mountains so fast on his horse so naturally. While I was at the hotel I also ended up buying a hat. I have a thing for hats but can never find ones I like. For some reason though I've always loved buying hats even though I never wear them.
On our way back we stopped for some Godja, a really wonderful soup to have in the summer, and one you can only get near the mountains. Made of milk, some grains, corn. I normally never drink milk, but this soup is to die for. You go to these small home kitchens on the side of the road run by local people. The proprietor and her daughter were kind enough to also offer me a taste of horse milk, which surprisingly was incredibly salty and fizzy. I also bought a bottle of homemade compote.
We went back to Tashkent and I passed out in the room. There is nothing to cure insomnia like going to the mountains or countryside.
Yesterday I got called into work and spent most of the day here. I got a lot done though so I was happy. I craved pizza again for lunch and on my way back stopped by broadway in the park to look at the paintings. There I ran into my friend's driver and we chatted a bit. I also got sick again, but this time I was glad. I could feel myself finally purging whatever had gotten me sick in the first place. The meds I had taken held back the symptoms for a few days but didn't cure it. I felt so much more relieved to finally get rid of everything. I was also so happy to see my boss' kids again. This time the little girl felt comfortable enough to let me hold her, and once again the son was quiet and peaceful in my arms.
After work I met up with a friend and had dinner at his restaurant. There was a huge tour group that came in while we were there. Strapped without his key, he had to argue his way in with the guard who yelled at us for coming so late on a Sunday night. He showed me his office which was in what looked to me like an old soviet building. On our way out we saw the guard washing his feet in the sink. It was so cute.
We walked through the park and I saw the Juliana night club and Ace, a karaoke bar run by Koreans. After a beer at the hotel bar, which was my first time seeing it, I finally wrapped up the night. One thing he said haunted me though. He said he's lived long enough to know that certain chances don't come often, that this was his last chance. I said whenever we think the door has closed, opportunities always come. Does what we believe come true, or is it that some people have more opportunities and chances than others. I don't know but I decided to try my luck last night and do something I had promised myself I wouldn't. Life has been funny here. I hope I can take these feelings, thoughts, sense of peace with me when I return.
On Fri I had a hilarious day with Malika. I went to get napkins and there was a tiny stack. I said is this all that's left? She said, you know, I only put a little, because if I put a lot, X person takes a lot and when our boss asks for some there are none left.
I laughed so hard. I asked my male co-workers what they would do. They logically said they would put out all the napkins. To me this was the difference between a man and a woman, and how clever women can be. Farkhad said Malika is getting smarter and smarter, and that women are better at conserving things from what he's seen with his mom.
Malika took me to lunch at an Andijon plov place where we sat on tapchangs while we ate our meal. We also looked at the small Korean grocery stores across the street. I had some things on my mind and she said there was a fortune teller nearby, and that maybe we could go. It turns out it was an Armenian lady who reads by cards. Well, Malika was translating for me so there were certain things I couldn't answer or say. But it was an interesting and what felt to be an authentic reading. While we were waiting in the waiting room boom, Malika's mom called, and about a minute later we saw a large shadow at the door trying to make her way in. She came in with a disapproving look. I couldn't stop laughing. Her mother was so smart, it was like she has this sonic radar. I joked that wherever Malika is her mother can just sense it and find her. I told them I felt so safe, that it was like having a body guard. We went for some ice cream and then returned to the office.
Saturday night after I went to the mountains I went back to one of my favorite Korean restaurants here for dinner. The owner is the sweetest woman. We've chatted a bunch of times over the last 2 months, and she is someone I would have enjoyed conversing with and hanging out with anywhere else as well. She came into the room where I was eating and brought the cutest baby kitten ever. I have never been a fan of cats but this kitten was beautiful. The mother cat had come in as a stray. She said when it was "time" she didn't want it to mate or meet a male cat, so she would take a stick and always chase around to find the cat when it went outside. Even her husband started following suit to find the cat. But she said, just as parents can't prevent their children from going with the one they love, her beloved cat found another shop owner's cat, got "married", and was soon pregnant thereafter.
Oddly enough, before she told me which was which, I could guess 2/3 kittens genders. Even from such a small age the female acted so much differently than her brothers.
Today I went to the mountains. I originally came here to find nomads and yurts and see natural surroundings. I couldn't leave without finding my nomads.
I wasn't sure if my co-worker would oversleep, so I had a back up plan just in case. Fortunately, he showed up with our driver 40 min late and we were off.
On our way to the mountains I saw these beautiful blankets or rugs, I couldn't tell. I asked them waht they were, and I think they could tell by my voice I was genuinely intrigued. The driver drove back and it turns out they were "yo's". We have these in Korea too. The best way to describe them is an old fashioned mattress. Stuffed with real cotton (I think), a cover is then made and you put them on the floor and sleep on them. They also go on top of the tap-changs I so love here.
I had to get one though. I could envision myself rolling it out on the floor wherever I live and lying on it while watching tv or doing homework and just rolling around.
Also on our way we saw some gorgeous animals. Cows, horses, donkeys, lambs, sheep. There was a herd of sheep on our way, and the driver was kind enough to pull over. I got out of the car and frolicked with them and took as many pictures as I could. Eventually they went their way, with a small barking dog and an older man and his son following from behind.
We went to Beldersay and took a tram up to the mountains. While waiting in line I saw something so characteristic of the people here. A man had a melon under his arm randomly while waiting in line for the tram. Though it's incredibly hot right now in Tashkent due to Chilla, the mountain air was so cool and refreshing. On the top we met some nomads finally! These were Kazak nomads. To make money they allow tourists to ride their horses for a short while. I got the feisty horse who wouldn't listen. Fortunately, the owner walked with us so there weren't any problems. But I can't tell you the feeling of riding a horse on top of a mountain while looking out to all the surrounding mountains. It was completely majestic.
There was also something I am always a sucker for. While I shouldn't be surprised to find it here, I was so delighted when I did. There was a wishing tree on top of this mountain, made with torn pieces of fabric. In Japan I went to a wishing tree in a temple where you bought these beautiful wooden tablets. But here, you tied a piece of fabric to the tree and hoped for the best.
My co-worker who went with me, Kozim, was awesome. He is so good talking to people, and was able to eventually located another nomad woman who had a yurt. She too was Kazak and while she lived in a trailer just next to the yurt, she also had a turkey, 2 horses, and offered us some horse milk to drink.
We went to the Pyramid Hotel to look around, and came across another Kyrgy nomad. I took a picture with him too, and afterwards, he rode out into the mountains so fast on his horse so naturally. While I was at the hotel I also ended up buying a hat. I have a thing for hats but can never find ones I like. For some reason though I've always loved buying hats even though I never wear them.
On our way back we stopped for some Godja, a really wonderful soup to have in the summer, and one you can only get near the mountains. Made of milk, some grains, corn. I normally never drink milk, but this soup is to die for. You go to these small home kitchens on the side of the road run by local people. The proprietor and her daughter were kind enough to also offer me a taste of horse milk, which surprisingly was incredibly salty and fizzy. I also bought a bottle of homemade compote.
We went back to Tashkent and I passed out in the room. There is nothing to cure insomnia like going to the mountains or countryside.
Yesterday I got called into work and spent most of the day here. I got a lot done though so I was happy. I craved pizza again for lunch and on my way back stopped by broadway in the park to look at the paintings. There I ran into my friend's driver and we chatted a bit. I also got sick again, but this time I was glad. I could feel myself finally purging whatever had gotten me sick in the first place. The meds I had taken held back the symptoms for a few days but didn't cure it. I felt so much more relieved to finally get rid of everything. I was also so happy to see my boss' kids again. This time the little girl felt comfortable enough to let me hold her, and once again the son was quiet and peaceful in my arms.
After work I met up with a friend and had dinner at his restaurant. There was a huge tour group that came in while we were there. Strapped without his key, he had to argue his way in with the guard who yelled at us for coming so late on a Sunday night. He showed me his office which was in what looked to me like an old soviet building. On our way out we saw the guard washing his feet in the sink. It was so cute.
We walked through the park and I saw the Juliana night club and Ace, a karaoke bar run by Koreans. After a beer at the hotel bar, which was my first time seeing it, I finally wrapped up the night. One thing he said haunted me though. He said he's lived long enough to know that certain chances don't come often, that this was his last chance. I said whenever we think the door has closed, opportunities always come. Does what we believe come true, or is it that some people have more opportunities and chances than others. I don't know but I decided to try my luck last night and do something I had promised myself I wouldn't. Life has been funny here. I hope I can take these feelings, thoughts, sense of peace with me when I return.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Sick
Ugh, I'm sick.
So last night I went to a wedding. When I arrived at the wedding hall, or cafe rather, my friend was outside talking to a young Korean man and his baby. The baby was beautiful, half Uzbek half Korean. But oddly, he kept hitting and pinching. A lot of babies do this, but this one was different. He didn't smile once. There was something really angry and unsettled about him, the way he would just look straight into your eyes, and then pinch or hit. I realized later I think babies absorb their home environment. My bosses kids are adorable. But you can also tell they are so well loved. They've been given love and know how to receive love. But this one. His father was talking to my friend. Turns out he's been unemployed for a while, and been having a hard time. We didn't ask where the wife was, but it seemed odd that in the early evening he would be by himself carrying this baby around. My aunt and I have had this conversation, but I think it applies to babies and animals/pets too.
In any case, at the wedding the couple seemed really happy and something seemed to match well actually. The bride's family seemed very loving and caring, and the groom and bride looked happy together. The feeling was much nicer compared to the first wedding I went to. The groom at this one even tried to do some Uzbek dancing. My friend said he found him very immature and someone who just likes to play. I argued that I thought it was beautiful. He was making an effort to dance the Uzbek way, to assimilate and understand his wife's culture, and that if each just made some considerate effort that way, could be very happy together in my opinion. There was one more tiff about leaving me alone in the room for so long, but I still had a great time.
Afterwards, I went to Jumanji with my friend. Jumanji's this upscale foreigner type restaurant here that has a mix of Asian, European and Uzbek food. The setting is beautiful as we sat outside. The trees had lights on them, and they strung lights on top of the outdoor setting.
And somehow, in the midst of a heavy conversation, I got really sick and had to run to the bathroom. At that moment it was probably a good thing, but wow, I can't believe this is probably the 4th time I've gotten sick now.
After walking in the night breeze, we finally hailed a cab and I headed back.
Last Saturday I went to "Gulyuk Bazaar", an outdoor bazaar with many Go-ryo-ins. I've wanted to go here for a while, and decided to finally just find my way. I chatted with some Go-ryo-ins there as I realized the older generation still speaks some Korean. I guess it's the same with us in the US. I can still speak some because I've learned from my parents, but there's a much smaller liklihood my children will speak.
There was the cutest grandmother there who still spoke old Chosun Korean, just like my grandmother. She told me to watch my bag because the bazaar was "gga-deuk-ha-da" of pickpocketers. She was so adorable. I gave her my number and said we should have dinner. But she lives in the countryside and goes home after work with all the stuff she sells. I will try to visit her again next week if I can.
And after some bargaining and finger pointing, I managed to buy some fruit.
Afterwards, I met my co-worker and friend, Farkhad, and we went to the painter's son's place. The paintings were amazing. Each one conveyed a different emotion and feeling. Also, the color sense was amazing. He told us that he is going to open an exhibition this fall, and will then sell his paintings afterwards. I am so dying to go, but school will be in session. We're thinking of having my mom go, but there's some controversy at home about the paintings. I may come back in the winter time then if I can.
After we saw the paintings, we went for ice cream. It was so funny because Farkhad said I remember getting this ice cream with my mom during Soviet times. It amazes me how this generation here has witnessed and experienced the change of times. We went grocery shopping and I asked what this and that was. I wanted to try a lot of local snacks and stuff. He would point to one and say that this was common during Soviet times, it was eaten for breakfast, etc. And afterwards, we took our food, got some beer, and sat on top of the rim of the fountain.
I just realized I had already written about this, but there is no harm in keeping memories alive by writing things again.
on Sunday after church, I decided to check out the Muqimi theater. Ironically, it was closed, but right across from a park I had been wanting to check out but couldn't figure out where it was. The Alisher Navoi park is gorgeous with this huge awning at the entry way, and pools of water. There is also a small type of Disneyland attached to the park where the locals go. But even more adorably, you see kids "swimming" and splashing around in the water and fountains. I took a walk and I saw some fruit trees on my way. I also came upon a gorgeous statue. I am still amazed by the statues and architecture here. On the ceilings of the domes are the most intricate designs. I walked a little further and came across what to me looked like a small temple. Even this temple, every panel of wood had an intricate carving. And once again, I saw the flower design that must've come down the silk road, as I've seen this flower design on a lot of columns in Korea as well.
There was a guy sleeping without his shirt on in a chair. Apparently it was an art gallery and it was closed. I don't know if it was my broken Russian, his sincere kindness, or my eager desire to see inside, but he let me in even though it was closed.
The gallery was breathtaking. The paintings were gorgeous. There were rugs, some ceramics, a wide array of paintings, but best of all, a tap chang.
I want to buy a tap chang so badly. This is the one limitation of my moving around and living on the east coast. Even if I got one I'd have no place to put one. I was thinking of getting one for my parents house, but I don't even know how those things get shipped. Maybe one day later if I have my own home I would get such a thing. I was telling a friend how I'd love to build one room like a yurt and put a tap chang in there.
In any case, a person who I think may have been a guide or somehow associated with the gallery came in and we walked around the park. He took some pictures of me at the statue, and picked some thing off a tree which I still don't know what it is. Tomatoes? Little fruits? I've been letting them ripen in my hotel room before I try them.
I then went to the cafe in the park and sat on a tap chang and had a cool iced tea. It was so HOT that day when I walked in the park.
Today for some reason things have cooled off. It almost looks like it's going to rain?
"If I see you I miss you, if I don't see you I miss you."
So last night I went to a wedding. When I arrived at the wedding hall, or cafe rather, my friend was outside talking to a young Korean man and his baby. The baby was beautiful, half Uzbek half Korean. But oddly, he kept hitting and pinching. A lot of babies do this, but this one was different. He didn't smile once. There was something really angry and unsettled about him, the way he would just look straight into your eyes, and then pinch or hit. I realized later I think babies absorb their home environment. My bosses kids are adorable. But you can also tell they are so well loved. They've been given love and know how to receive love. But this one. His father was talking to my friend. Turns out he's been unemployed for a while, and been having a hard time. We didn't ask where the wife was, but it seemed odd that in the early evening he would be by himself carrying this baby around. My aunt and I have had this conversation, but I think it applies to babies and animals/pets too.
In any case, at the wedding the couple seemed really happy and something seemed to match well actually. The bride's family seemed very loving and caring, and the groom and bride looked happy together. The feeling was much nicer compared to the first wedding I went to. The groom at this one even tried to do some Uzbek dancing. My friend said he found him very immature and someone who just likes to play. I argued that I thought it was beautiful. He was making an effort to dance the Uzbek way, to assimilate and understand his wife's culture, and that if each just made some considerate effort that way, could be very happy together in my opinion. There was one more tiff about leaving me alone in the room for so long, but I still had a great time.
Afterwards, I went to Jumanji with my friend. Jumanji's this upscale foreigner type restaurant here that has a mix of Asian, European and Uzbek food. The setting is beautiful as we sat outside. The trees had lights on them, and they strung lights on top of the outdoor setting.
And somehow, in the midst of a heavy conversation, I got really sick and had to run to the bathroom. At that moment it was probably a good thing, but wow, I can't believe this is probably the 4th time I've gotten sick now.
After walking in the night breeze, we finally hailed a cab and I headed back.
Last Saturday I went to "Gulyuk Bazaar", an outdoor bazaar with many Go-ryo-ins. I've wanted to go here for a while, and decided to finally just find my way. I chatted with some Go-ryo-ins there as I realized the older generation still speaks some Korean. I guess it's the same with us in the US. I can still speak some because I've learned from my parents, but there's a much smaller liklihood my children will speak.
There was the cutest grandmother there who still spoke old Chosun Korean, just like my grandmother. She told me to watch my bag because the bazaar was "gga-deuk-ha-da" of pickpocketers. She was so adorable. I gave her my number and said we should have dinner. But she lives in the countryside and goes home after work with all the stuff she sells. I will try to visit her again next week if I can.
And after some bargaining and finger pointing, I managed to buy some fruit.
Afterwards, I met my co-worker and friend, Farkhad, and we went to the painter's son's place. The paintings were amazing. Each one conveyed a different emotion and feeling. Also, the color sense was amazing. He told us that he is going to open an exhibition this fall, and will then sell his paintings afterwards. I am so dying to go, but school will be in session. We're thinking of having my mom go, but there's some controversy at home about the paintings. I may come back in the winter time then if I can.
After we saw the paintings, we went for ice cream. It was so funny because Farkhad said I remember getting this ice cream with my mom during Soviet times. It amazes me how this generation here has witnessed and experienced the change of times. We went grocery shopping and I asked what this and that was. I wanted to try a lot of local snacks and stuff. He would point to one and say that this was common during Soviet times, it was eaten for breakfast, etc. And afterwards, we took our food, got some beer, and sat on top of the rim of the fountain.
I just realized I had already written about this, but there is no harm in keeping memories alive by writing things again.
on Sunday after church, I decided to check out the Muqimi theater. Ironically, it was closed, but right across from a park I had been wanting to check out but couldn't figure out where it was. The Alisher Navoi park is gorgeous with this huge awning at the entry way, and pools of water. There is also a small type of Disneyland attached to the park where the locals go. But even more adorably, you see kids "swimming" and splashing around in the water and fountains. I took a walk and I saw some fruit trees on my way. I also came upon a gorgeous statue. I am still amazed by the statues and architecture here. On the ceilings of the domes are the most intricate designs. I walked a little further and came across what to me looked like a small temple. Even this temple, every panel of wood had an intricate carving. And once again, I saw the flower design that must've come down the silk road, as I've seen this flower design on a lot of columns in Korea as well.
There was a guy sleeping without his shirt on in a chair. Apparently it was an art gallery and it was closed. I don't know if it was my broken Russian, his sincere kindness, or my eager desire to see inside, but he let me in even though it was closed.
The gallery was breathtaking. The paintings were gorgeous. There were rugs, some ceramics, a wide array of paintings, but best of all, a tap chang.
I want to buy a tap chang so badly. This is the one limitation of my moving around and living on the east coast. Even if I got one I'd have no place to put one. I was thinking of getting one for my parents house, but I don't even know how those things get shipped. Maybe one day later if I have my own home I would get such a thing. I was telling a friend how I'd love to build one room like a yurt and put a tap chang in there.
In any case, a person who I think may have been a guide or somehow associated with the gallery came in and we walked around the park. He took some pictures of me at the statue, and picked some thing off a tree which I still don't know what it is. Tomatoes? Little fruits? I've been letting them ripen in my hotel room before I try them.
I then went to the cafe in the park and sat on a tap chang and had a cool iced tea. It was so HOT that day when I walked in the park.
Today for some reason things have cooled off. It almost looks like it's going to rain?
"If I see you I miss you, if I don't see you I miss you."
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Life is short
Forgive quickly
Kiss slowly
Love truly
Laugh uncontrollably
And never regret anything that made you smile.
So this is the big debate I haven't solved. Do you live and go for things, even if you know they'll hurt or make things harder later? Or do you live with caution and wisdom.
Sunday I decided to try going to a go-ryo-in church. To my luck, the cab driver I caught happened to know where it is in the Sergily district. I'm completely supportive of any religion. I think faith and belief are good components of one's life. But, there's one thing that makes me really hesitant about Korean churches. They sometimes are a little too dramatic for me to be honest. Maybe it is passion, but for some reason I get uncomfortable with the displays of emotion when I go.
The odd thing was when I went to this church, it was clear to me many Korean pastors, missionaries, etc must've passed through this church. The way they praised, sang, cried their hearts out, etc. I felt like I was in a Korean church in the US. The sermon and praise songs were in Russian, the young Go-ryo-in kids had even made a hip hop type dance to some of the songs. And despite not understanding except a few words, it was really nice to go.
I also couldn't help notice that there were so many grandmothers, but very few men. And the few who I saw, I kept wondering if he could be our family member. I wanted to ask what their last names were, etc. but unfortunately, I still didn't have the info at this point.
Afterwards I was debating how to get home and I saw a grandmother sitting on a chair. I started talking to her. She asked if I had eaten? I said no. She said, you have to eat, we have to feed you, let's hold hands and go. I sat with her and some others, and once again, she spoke Chosun Korean. I am still amazed when I encounter the older generation who can still remember Korean well enough to speak. They were essentially the 2nd generation born here, so the equivalent to what I am in the US.
I sat with her, and afterwards she brought me with her to her - what I think was - bible study. A bunch of Go-ryo-in grandmothers gathered around the table, sung songs in Russian. There was a sense of serenity to it.
On the way to bible study she told me her daughter had died this past May in an auto accident. I felt terrible. I said you must be so "seul-puh" (sad) and she said she was so seul-puh. I felt so sad to see that no matter where you went, there were always these types of things.
In any case, afterwards I caught a ride with her. Her son in law is Uzbek but incredibly kind. When they got to their home, they put me in a cab, paid for it, and sent me safely back to my hotel.
At night I met Sveta and her husband for dinner. We went for Turkish food. They are the nicest Go-ryo-in couple I've seen yet, and seem so good together. Afterwards she and I went to opera cafe at the Dedeman Hotel for dessert.
The next night I checked out a restaurant I've been meaning to see, Manas Art Cafe. They're air-conditioned yurts and have Kyrgi and European food. A man was singing on the karaoke machine, to which they charge a "music" fee, but all the songs fit my mood at the time.
Afterwards I stopped by one of the Korean restaurants I go to often. After hanging out for a bit, the owner got a call to stop by a friend's place. He took me with him and guess what it was. A karaoke bar.
Korean karaoke bars outside the US aren't what people back home envision them to be. I shouldn't say all, but at least here, karaoke bars are places you can sing, drink, but also get girls. In a sense, I guess they are the equivalent to room salons, but you have to be fairly developed to have tiered levels of karaoke places, and then room salons.
I've never been to one but I was curious. The rooms were gorgeous, the whole setting was gorgeous actually. We had some beer, snacks, and they forced me to sing.
I love music, but I don't sing. I have terrible stage fright, and I absolutely hate singing in front of people. But I believe singing in general is cathartic. It's just not me. So in a whisper where I think it was more painful for them to sit through then for me to sing, I had to appease them and get one song over with.
It was pretty fun though I have to say.
Yesterday after a late night at work, I went out for a little again. I was supposed to go for a late dinner with the owner when he suddenly got a call that 40 people were coming to the restaurant. Well, guess who filled in. I realized to do service type of jobs like that you have to also have a certain personality. I kept shyly hiding in the room, when I asked people if they needed anything I think they could barely hear me, and I felt too bashful to go too close to their table and clear away plates. Fortunately, this was a really nice group of young people. Apparently they were supposed to go to Kazakhstan to perform for a festival but got stuck in Tashkent for the night. Well mannered, polite, it was really pleasant having all of them there at once. I filled a couple water jugs, got some glasses, asked for some extra dishes. But I was honestly too shy to do much.
After everyone left Sveta, the owner and I ate a late meal. The food tasted really good at that point. But I think it was partly also being able to eat with people I felt comfortable with again. Lunch is always casual, but there's something I love and appreciate about having dinner with close friends. Even in NY this is sometimes a luxury.
I probably shouldn't write this. In any case, I tried crashing but couldn't sleep. I got up to write some postcards which I had been meaning to do, and I saw I had a missed call from just a few min before. I guess you'd have to know the background to understand why the conversation made me sad. In any case, at the moment, I wonder if I could really be happy just staying and living life here. Would it be temporary, would it wear off? Or is it really me I wonder.
Forgive quickly
Kiss slowly
Love truly
Laugh uncontrollably
And never regret anything that made you smile.
So this is the big debate I haven't solved. Do you live and go for things, even if you know they'll hurt or make things harder later? Or do you live with caution and wisdom.
Sunday I decided to try going to a go-ryo-in church. To my luck, the cab driver I caught happened to know where it is in the Sergily district. I'm completely supportive of any religion. I think faith and belief are good components of one's life. But, there's one thing that makes me really hesitant about Korean churches. They sometimes are a little too dramatic for me to be honest. Maybe it is passion, but for some reason I get uncomfortable with the displays of emotion when I go.
The odd thing was when I went to this church, it was clear to me many Korean pastors, missionaries, etc must've passed through this church. The way they praised, sang, cried their hearts out, etc. I felt like I was in a Korean church in the US. The sermon and praise songs were in Russian, the young Go-ryo-in kids had even made a hip hop type dance to some of the songs. And despite not understanding except a few words, it was really nice to go.
I also couldn't help notice that there were so many grandmothers, but very few men. And the few who I saw, I kept wondering if he could be our family member. I wanted to ask what their last names were, etc. but unfortunately, I still didn't have the info at this point.
Afterwards I was debating how to get home and I saw a grandmother sitting on a chair. I started talking to her. She asked if I had eaten? I said no. She said, you have to eat, we have to feed you, let's hold hands and go. I sat with her and some others, and once again, she spoke Chosun Korean. I am still amazed when I encounter the older generation who can still remember Korean well enough to speak. They were essentially the 2nd generation born here, so the equivalent to what I am in the US.
I sat with her, and afterwards she brought me with her to her - what I think was - bible study. A bunch of Go-ryo-in grandmothers gathered around the table, sung songs in Russian. There was a sense of serenity to it.
On the way to bible study she told me her daughter had died this past May in an auto accident. I felt terrible. I said you must be so "seul-puh" (sad) and she said she was so seul-puh. I felt so sad to see that no matter where you went, there were always these types of things.
In any case, afterwards I caught a ride with her. Her son in law is Uzbek but incredibly kind. When they got to their home, they put me in a cab, paid for it, and sent me safely back to my hotel.
At night I met Sveta and her husband for dinner. We went for Turkish food. They are the nicest Go-ryo-in couple I've seen yet, and seem so good together. Afterwards she and I went to opera cafe at the Dedeman Hotel for dessert.
The next night I checked out a restaurant I've been meaning to see, Manas Art Cafe. They're air-conditioned yurts and have Kyrgi and European food. A man was singing on the karaoke machine, to which they charge a "music" fee, but all the songs fit my mood at the time.
Afterwards I stopped by one of the Korean restaurants I go to often. After hanging out for a bit, the owner got a call to stop by a friend's place. He took me with him and guess what it was. A karaoke bar.
Korean karaoke bars outside the US aren't what people back home envision them to be. I shouldn't say all, but at least here, karaoke bars are places you can sing, drink, but also get girls. In a sense, I guess they are the equivalent to room salons, but you have to be fairly developed to have tiered levels of karaoke places, and then room salons.
I've never been to one but I was curious. The rooms were gorgeous, the whole setting was gorgeous actually. We had some beer, snacks, and they forced me to sing.
I love music, but I don't sing. I have terrible stage fright, and I absolutely hate singing in front of people. But I believe singing in general is cathartic. It's just not me. So in a whisper where I think it was more painful for them to sit through then for me to sing, I had to appease them and get one song over with.
It was pretty fun though I have to say.
Yesterday after a late night at work, I went out for a little again. I was supposed to go for a late dinner with the owner when he suddenly got a call that 40 people were coming to the restaurant. Well, guess who filled in. I realized to do service type of jobs like that you have to also have a certain personality. I kept shyly hiding in the room, when I asked people if they needed anything I think they could barely hear me, and I felt too bashful to go too close to their table and clear away plates. Fortunately, this was a really nice group of young people. Apparently they were supposed to go to Kazakhstan to perform for a festival but got stuck in Tashkent for the night. Well mannered, polite, it was really pleasant having all of them there at once. I filled a couple water jugs, got some glasses, asked for some extra dishes. But I was honestly too shy to do much.
After everyone left Sveta, the owner and I ate a late meal. The food tasted really good at that point. But I think it was partly also being able to eat with people I felt comfortable with again. Lunch is always casual, but there's something I love and appreciate about having dinner with close friends. Even in NY this is sometimes a luxury.
I probably shouldn't write this. In any case, I tried crashing but couldn't sleep. I got up to write some postcards which I had been meaning to do, and I saw I had a missed call from just a few min before. I guess you'd have to know the background to understand why the conversation made me sad. In any case, at the moment, I wonder if I could really be happy just staying and living life here. Would it be temporary, would it wear off? Or is it really me I wonder.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Things are looking up again
So after a few dismal days of politics which I abhor but somehow seem to come across wherever I go, things are looking up again.
Last night I had an amazingly fun dinner with Nina at Dar. She's from Slovenia, and we both met through the industry. Dar's this beautiful outdoor place in the restaurant, and we had the kind of conversation only 2 women could have. After we came back we stood on the corner outside her hotel having a few last words before I crossed the street. Cars kept stopping and we'd shoo them away. She was like, so many cars never stop like this, we must be popular. I quickly realized what it was. 2 women late at night on a street corner in Tashkent.... isn't very common. And it was probably obvious we were foreigners. She joked, I wonder if we'd get the foreigner premium for this one (foreigner premium referring to how we always pay more for cabs, etc)
This morning I woke up earlier than expected and decided to fulfill my own adventures again. I finally went to Qulyuk bazaar which I'd been meaning to go to all summer. This is a bazaar where many Go-ryo-in's have shop at. I first came across a Go-ryo-in selling some kuksu and other things. She spoke some Korean and we chatted. Then I went to another stand in the back where there was the cutest grandma ever. She reminded me so much of mine. I spoke with her and was completely floored. So in North Korea the dialect and slang is slightly different. My cousins sometimes don't understand what my grandmother says because of this (they grew up in Seoul, and my grandmother still speaks in the North Korean dialect). This grandmother also spoke in the North Korean dialect. I quickly realized the older generations still spoke some Korean and had some remnants left from their parents. They told me they kept it alive by also speaking with each other, because after all, they are "chosun-saram". She was so adorable and warned me about watching my bag because the bazaar was "ga-deuk-ha-da" of pick pocketers. I felt like she was part of my own family. I left my phone number for both of them and sincerely hope I meet with them again.
After some trouble getting back, I met Farkhad for my next excursion. Somehow amidst my time here I managed to track down the painter's son. He was kind enough to let us come to see some of his father's works. Pictures may tell a thousand words, but there is nothing like seeing beautiful paintings live. In my opinion, his father was a true genius. Every painting you see conveys a different emotion and feeling. You simply look and it evokes something. His color scheme, imagination, range of painting. And each one told the story and history of all the suffering, death, dislocation, abandonment, fear, nostalgia, that even if we try to imagine we could never know. I don't know that our time can produce this type of painters anymore. Well, rather than say any, maybe that it's growing rarer and rarer. It was the rare and trying circumstances that all happened one after another that he could understand all this and paint. His son was the most sincere, gentle person I've met in a long time. I asked what his father was like, whether he was quiet. He said yes, that he just painted a lot. Apparently he had 4 sons but ironically, 7 grand-daughters. A bit of history about this painter. He lost his parents early on, his sister died of malaria, and he couldn't financially support his grandmother so he sent her to Kazakhstan for a while. Trying to gather enough money to bring her back, she ended up dying alone during this time. In Korea there is sometimes a superstition or saying that some people don't have sons or women/men in their lives. I'm not a fortune teller, but it made me wonder whether this painter in a way did not have the type of fate to have women close to him in his life or for very long. Apparently all 4 sons paint, which was touching, but in a way didn't surprise me too. That type of rare talent is something you're born with. No matter how much you learn and refine and study and draw, you have it or you don't. This man so had it.
They are planning an exhibition in September and after that will begin to sell some of his paintings. I am selfishly hoping it gets delayed again (it depends on the gallery's schedule, and in Uz a lot of things get delayed), and am hoping it gets pushed back until December/January. If this is the case I would seriously come back for these paintings.
If I was given a choice between buying some paintings or a car, I would chose the paintings. It was this same way with music when I played. Most songs I was indifferent to or didn't like, but the few I loved I had to play, and I played them well. And I guess with art, I love seeing paintings in general, but very few capture me that way, and when they do I have to have them. Whether a republic, or in this case, the actual thing.
Amazingly, he also gave me a book about his father's life story. In it are a lot of his father's works, as well as poems he wrote about each painting translated in both Russian and Korean. It was the most perfect souvenier and memory of Uzbekistan.
After this we went to get some cold water and then ice cream. Farkhad said he remembered getting this ice cream during soviet times. It's so interesting that this generation here has witnessed soviet to post-soviet times, the independence of a nation. I guess in America we may be about to witness our first black or female president, but it's nothing to the same degree and magnitude in my opinion.
After this we went to a Korean restaurant I hadn't been to, Kim Sak-Kan. We lazed around there for a while and eventually wandered out. We ended up walking to the upscale grocery store - Mir I think - near Alisher Navoi theater, and bought some random snacks, drinks, toiletries, etc. Then we sat at the fountain at the Navoi Theater and drank beer. This may sound like some random thing but in NY if you're caught in the street, outside, or at some public place with beer you're done. I kicked off my shoes and stuck my feet in the fountain the way the guy next to me did. It was just so nice sitting on the fountain edge, feet in water, drinking beer, eating chips, and just talking.
Tomorrow morning I am hoping to get up to try to go to a "Ko-Ryo-In" church in the Selonziy district. We'll see. I also hope to make it to the Muqimi theater and meet up with Tri.
My spirits were lifted for the first time in a while, though I guess I've only had a few bad days here. But it's relative. A bad day in Tashkent is like 2 bad months in NY for me. In any case, I felt so uplifted I went ahead and booked my labor day weekend trip. Hopefully the weather will hold and the schedule will work out, but I'm not going to worry about it for now.
Hopefully my Tashkent is working its magic again. I hope my final wish can still come true.
Last night I had an amazingly fun dinner with Nina at Dar. She's from Slovenia, and we both met through the industry. Dar's this beautiful outdoor place in the restaurant, and we had the kind of conversation only 2 women could have. After we came back we stood on the corner outside her hotel having a few last words before I crossed the street. Cars kept stopping and we'd shoo them away. She was like, so many cars never stop like this, we must be popular. I quickly realized what it was. 2 women late at night on a street corner in Tashkent.... isn't very common. And it was probably obvious we were foreigners. She joked, I wonder if we'd get the foreigner premium for this one (foreigner premium referring to how we always pay more for cabs, etc)
This morning I woke up earlier than expected and decided to fulfill my own adventures again. I finally went to Qulyuk bazaar which I'd been meaning to go to all summer. This is a bazaar where many Go-ryo-in's have shop at. I first came across a Go-ryo-in selling some kuksu and other things. She spoke some Korean and we chatted. Then I went to another stand in the back where there was the cutest grandma ever. She reminded me so much of mine. I spoke with her and was completely floored. So in North Korea the dialect and slang is slightly different. My cousins sometimes don't understand what my grandmother says because of this (they grew up in Seoul, and my grandmother still speaks in the North Korean dialect). This grandmother also spoke in the North Korean dialect. I quickly realized the older generations still spoke some Korean and had some remnants left from their parents. They told me they kept it alive by also speaking with each other, because after all, they are "chosun-saram". She was so adorable and warned me about watching my bag because the bazaar was "ga-deuk-ha-da" of pick pocketers. I felt like she was part of my own family. I left my phone number for both of them and sincerely hope I meet with them again.
After some trouble getting back, I met Farkhad for my next excursion. Somehow amidst my time here I managed to track down the painter's son. He was kind enough to let us come to see some of his father's works. Pictures may tell a thousand words, but there is nothing like seeing beautiful paintings live. In my opinion, his father was a true genius. Every painting you see conveys a different emotion and feeling. You simply look and it evokes something. His color scheme, imagination, range of painting. And each one told the story and history of all the suffering, death, dislocation, abandonment, fear, nostalgia, that even if we try to imagine we could never know. I don't know that our time can produce this type of painters anymore. Well, rather than say any, maybe that it's growing rarer and rarer. It was the rare and trying circumstances that all happened one after another that he could understand all this and paint. His son was the most sincere, gentle person I've met in a long time. I asked what his father was like, whether he was quiet. He said yes, that he just painted a lot. Apparently he had 4 sons but ironically, 7 grand-daughters. A bit of history about this painter. He lost his parents early on, his sister died of malaria, and he couldn't financially support his grandmother so he sent her to Kazakhstan for a while. Trying to gather enough money to bring her back, she ended up dying alone during this time. In Korea there is sometimes a superstition or saying that some people don't have sons or women/men in their lives. I'm not a fortune teller, but it made me wonder whether this painter in a way did not have the type of fate to have women close to him in his life or for very long. Apparently all 4 sons paint, which was touching, but in a way didn't surprise me too. That type of rare talent is something you're born with. No matter how much you learn and refine and study and draw, you have it or you don't. This man so had it.
They are planning an exhibition in September and after that will begin to sell some of his paintings. I am selfishly hoping it gets delayed again (it depends on the gallery's schedule, and in Uz a lot of things get delayed), and am hoping it gets pushed back until December/January. If this is the case I would seriously come back for these paintings.
If I was given a choice between buying some paintings or a car, I would chose the paintings. It was this same way with music when I played. Most songs I was indifferent to or didn't like, but the few I loved I had to play, and I played them well. And I guess with art, I love seeing paintings in general, but very few capture me that way, and when they do I have to have them. Whether a republic, or in this case, the actual thing.
Amazingly, he also gave me a book about his father's life story. In it are a lot of his father's works, as well as poems he wrote about each painting translated in both Russian and Korean. It was the most perfect souvenier and memory of Uzbekistan.
After this we went to get some cold water and then ice cream. Farkhad said he remembered getting this ice cream during soviet times. It's so interesting that this generation here has witnessed soviet to post-soviet times, the independence of a nation. I guess in America we may be about to witness our first black or female president, but it's nothing to the same degree and magnitude in my opinion.
After this we went to a Korean restaurant I hadn't been to, Kim Sak-Kan. We lazed around there for a while and eventually wandered out. We ended up walking to the upscale grocery store - Mir I think - near Alisher Navoi theater, and bought some random snacks, drinks, toiletries, etc. Then we sat at the fountain at the Navoi Theater and drank beer. This may sound like some random thing but in NY if you're caught in the street, outside, or at some public place with beer you're done. I kicked off my shoes and stuck my feet in the fountain the way the guy next to me did. It was just so nice sitting on the fountain edge, feet in water, drinking beer, eating chips, and just talking.
Tomorrow morning I am hoping to get up to try to go to a "Ko-Ryo-In" church in the Selonziy district. We'll see. I also hope to make it to the Muqimi theater and meet up with Tri.
My spirits were lifted for the first time in a while, though I guess I've only had a few bad days here. But it's relative. A bad day in Tashkent is like 2 bad months in NY for me. In any case, I felt so uplifted I went ahead and booked my labor day weekend trip. Hopefully the weather will hold and the schedule will work out, but I'm not going to worry about it for now.
Hopefully my Tashkent is working its magic again. I hope my final wish can still come true.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Difficult times.
Yesterday was the first day things were really bad. It was to the point I began wondering if it would be better if I go back early.
Long story short there was a dispute at work. Fortunately, I have some very wise friends in NY who both gave me similar advice. With a clear decision in hand I went to sleep.
Then strangely, when I woke up today something felt very pleasant. The whole mood in the office is completely different. I don't know if something happened last night, or if it is this way. That some days are destined to just be chaotic, while others are peaceful. I was always an analyst just doing my work. Now from a manager's perspective I see things differently.
I had dinner last night with someone I met in Kazakhstan. After an already difficult day, it was a little bit exhausting. For 3 hours he told me about his life, his difficulties. And he said to please forgive him for talking so much, that he doesn't often get to meet with Korean people. I felt bad at the same time, realizing he probably doesn't get to unload often and we all need to at times. So despite exhaustion, I figured if it helped him release, why not. It was only 3 hours of my life.
Oddly enough, before our office manager left for Malaysia, I had a feeling it may not work out. She was very nervous when she left. I told her, if anything happens or you are not happy, just come back. I think things sometimes have to be perfectly aligned and the timing has to work with these things. If I had come here even a year ago, it wouldn't have been right. And if I had gone to school 2 years ago, it wouldn't have been right. Sometimes I think we don't see the reason and get frustrated when we see doors close. But now I am so grateful that I wasn't able to squeeze through when the time wasn't right.
Thank goodness this weekend is coming. On other note, I am very excited. I think I got a hold of one of the painter's sons. I can't explain it. I just feel such a strong connection to those paintings. I keep trying to focus on this aspect of my trip. These are the reasons I came. Open dreams. Open pursuits. And not knowing what will come.
Long story short there was a dispute at work. Fortunately, I have some very wise friends in NY who both gave me similar advice. With a clear decision in hand I went to sleep.
Then strangely, when I woke up today something felt very pleasant. The whole mood in the office is completely different. I don't know if something happened last night, or if it is this way. That some days are destined to just be chaotic, while others are peaceful. I was always an analyst just doing my work. Now from a manager's perspective I see things differently.
I had dinner last night with someone I met in Kazakhstan. After an already difficult day, it was a little bit exhausting. For 3 hours he told me about his life, his difficulties. And he said to please forgive him for talking so much, that he doesn't often get to meet with Korean people. I felt bad at the same time, realizing he probably doesn't get to unload often and we all need to at times. So despite exhaustion, I figured if it helped him release, why not. It was only 3 hours of my life.
Oddly enough, before our office manager left for Malaysia, I had a feeling it may not work out. She was very nervous when she left. I told her, if anything happens or you are not happy, just come back. I think things sometimes have to be perfectly aligned and the timing has to work with these things. If I had come here even a year ago, it wouldn't have been right. And if I had gone to school 2 years ago, it wouldn't have been right. Sometimes I think we don't see the reason and get frustrated when we see doors close. But now I am so grateful that I wasn't able to squeeze through when the time wasn't right.
Thank goodness this weekend is coming. On other note, I am very excited. I think I got a hold of one of the painter's sons. I can't explain it. I just feel such a strong connection to those paintings. I keep trying to focus on this aspect of my trip. These are the reasons I came. Open dreams. Open pursuits. And not knowing what will come.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Interesting day
After getting woken up at about 4am by a bunch of loud tourists outside my door, and getting little sleep, I was excited because the head guy was finally arriving to our office today.
He's been out traveling a lot, and I've been a little uneasy with the #2 guy's message and objectives and the direction I felt he was steering the team towards. Having the #1 guy will re-align and clarify the company's objectives, focus, and goals. And I also like him as a person.
An investor visited today from the UK. We all went out for lunch, and then visited a prospective investment, a DIY company. We got to see the building structure, land plots. It is so fascinating watching this city in its nascent stages of growth and development. I am so excited to be able to see a country in this stage.
I told the investor how I wanted to come here because it was still in its early development stages. He also commented how it's a lot harder to find this now than during his time. I liked him because we have similar ways of investing and observation. We both take ground up approaches. He noticed the increased traffic in one year. I noticed the new contemporary art museum. He noticed the number of cranes. I noticed the new types of restaurants and cafes that were cropping up. We both talked about how sometimes taxi drivers can give a wealth of information.
I fell asleep in the car. I was so exhausted. But it was fascinating. I learned that in Dubai there are many Israeli and American investors part of the sovereign fund. It shows that when it comes to money objectives will be aligned. And the high intellect of our times. People are more open I believe. We have more knowledge about other religions, cultures, and are more accepting of "different" ways.
I just hope I get a good night's rest tonight.
He's been out traveling a lot, and I've been a little uneasy with the #2 guy's message and objectives and the direction I felt he was steering the team towards. Having the #1 guy will re-align and clarify the company's objectives, focus, and goals. And I also like him as a person.
An investor visited today from the UK. We all went out for lunch, and then visited a prospective investment, a DIY company. We got to see the building structure, land plots. It is so fascinating watching this city in its nascent stages of growth and development. I am so excited to be able to see a country in this stage.
I told the investor how I wanted to come here because it was still in its early development stages. He also commented how it's a lot harder to find this now than during his time. I liked him because we have similar ways of investing and observation. We both take ground up approaches. He noticed the increased traffic in one year. I noticed the new contemporary art museum. He noticed the number of cranes. I noticed the new types of restaurants and cafes that were cropping up. We both talked about how sometimes taxi drivers can give a wealth of information.
I fell asleep in the car. I was so exhausted. But it was fascinating. I learned that in Dubai there are many Israeli and American investors part of the sovereign fund. It shows that when it comes to money objectives will be aligned. And the high intellect of our times. People are more open I believe. We have more knowledge about other religions, cultures, and are more accepting of "different" ways.
I just hope I get a good night's rest tonight.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
What I've seen, tasted, felt.
A bunch of noisy hotel guests woke me up at 3am, so now I'm up for good. I decided to use this time to catch up on some emails/blog writings. My friend Cindy, who was the incredible link which brought me here, asked me what I've seen, tasted, and felt here. The seen and tasted were easy to describe. But I've posted the what I've felt here.
And as for felt... I don't even know where to begin. I feel like I'm a different person here. And I feel like I've found my heart again. I've learned to trust my instincts and feelings again. I have to go by sensing, instincts, and intuition since I don't speak the language and this isn't my country. I can see and sense kindness/not so goodness on a level that I can't in the US. All my feelings are so much deeper and richer than before. I feel like I am finally alive again. And I am so glad to be here on my own. I'm able to experience things to the fullness, and to be free.
In NY I was so preoccupied and busy with thinking, planning, executing. I lost myself and lost being in tune with my heart. I feel like this place has opened me up again. I am constantly feeling so many different emotions and feelings. My senses are also heightened. I think a part of me has gone into animal mode since my language skills are limited and I'm in a foreign country, I have to trust observation, sense, and instincts so much more. I follow my heart here, I embrace my feelings. I had stopped crying for the last 4 years. It was like a faucet just turned off and dry. But here, I'm able to release and really feel things. I'm constantly moved by so many things in a day. I can't even describe this in words.
I feel like I've found a home I didn't know I was searching for. I feel like I've been wandering in my life trying to fulfill myself with temporary amusements or things that weren't enriching. But being here, I feel like I am finally home.
------
I am constantly falling in love here. With moments, with others, with myself. Every minute I am feeling something. Despite its barreness and simplicity, Tashkent has been so full of everything for me. I have never felt so fulfilled. To me, it is the most romantic place in the world. I am already scared to leave. I know these feelings may never come again. Everything has aligned and collided just perfectly. I feel like if I even move one step, everything will change.
Happy ending
What started out as a rough day ended with happiness.
After work I felt a little down. I decided to go to one of my favorite Korean restaurants and have a quiet dinner. I ambitiously decided I knew Tashkent well enough to walk there. Well, I made it about half way there. I asked some people where Grand Mir hotel was (the restaurant is right next door) and I was surprised to find many didn't know. It is because they changed the name, and most locals are not in the know-how of these updated foreigner places.
I then asked a babushka (grandmother) who was so kind. She said she was walking towards that way and to follow her. I can't say I understand every word, but somehow I've learned to understand a little more and get the gist of things. We crossed the street together, all the time she looked over her shoulder to make sure I was safe. Machina Machina (car car) she said when I was walking too close to an oncoming car.
She was going to help me get on the bus and I was going to embark on this adventure if we were on the same one. But she said she lived far away and would be sending me on my own. I decided to just jump in a cab and go.
Luck will have it that I found a go-ryo-in cab driver. We began conversing and I asked him where the Korean stores were. He showed me and dropped me off, as it wasn't far from where I had to go. I began walking towards my restaurant and found another Korean restaurant on the way called "Grandma's place", or hal-mae-jib.
Well, I went in and was greeted by a very sweet go-ryo-in debushka. In the first room I sat in there were a couple Komars, or mosquitos (amazing which words you learn when you are in a foreign country). I switched to another room. Not only did I see a dead bug under one of the chairs, the plastic covering on the table felt sticky. I am not always neat but I am a germ/clean freak. Grin and bear it, it's a new experience I told myself.
The food was good but I was happy to get out. Whenever anything is dirty I get goose bumps and feel absolutely gross. I decided to have one more adventure before going home. I had heard about the President's daughter's restaurant which flies in cheesecake daily from Moscow. I had been meaning to check it out and decided today would be the day.
After ordering a chocolate cheesecake and wolfing it down, I hailed a cab. The car seemed to be driving fast and I told myself I wouldn't get in. But when the driver pulled up he looked like a decent enough person so I got in. (I wish good judgement with taxi drivers could form some sort of business for me by the way). We began to converse, the normal questions came up. This time I said I was from Korea, that I now live in Tashkent, and that my husband works here. He said he actually isn't a taxi driver and was on his way back from work, but did this unofficially when he was free. I really respect this. It is tough to get by here, and it seems so in tandem with the "sure, why not?" culture here. We chatted some more, and when I told him how kind I found the people here he seemed to really take it to heart. There is such great pride here and a strong sense of identity. When he dropped me off I asked how much. He refused to accept. He said he was on his way home and that it was his pleasure.
It's amazing what can happen in Tashkent.
After work I felt a little down. I decided to go to one of my favorite Korean restaurants and have a quiet dinner. I ambitiously decided I knew Tashkent well enough to walk there. Well, I made it about half way there. I asked some people where Grand Mir hotel was (the restaurant is right next door) and I was surprised to find many didn't know. It is because they changed the name, and most locals are not in the know-how of these updated foreigner places.
I then asked a babushka (grandmother) who was so kind. She said she was walking towards that way and to follow her. I can't say I understand every word, but somehow I've learned to understand a little more and get the gist of things. We crossed the street together, all the time she looked over her shoulder to make sure I was safe. Machina Machina (car car) she said when I was walking too close to an oncoming car.
She was going to help me get on the bus and I was going to embark on this adventure if we were on the same one. But she said she lived far away and would be sending me on my own. I decided to just jump in a cab and go.
Luck will have it that I found a go-ryo-in cab driver. We began conversing and I asked him where the Korean stores were. He showed me and dropped me off, as it wasn't far from where I had to go. I began walking towards my restaurant and found another Korean restaurant on the way called "Grandma's place", or hal-mae-jib.
Well, I went in and was greeted by a very sweet go-ryo-in debushka. In the first room I sat in there were a couple Komars, or mosquitos (amazing which words you learn when you are in a foreign country). I switched to another room. Not only did I see a dead bug under one of the chairs, the plastic covering on the table felt sticky. I am not always neat but I am a germ/clean freak. Grin and bear it, it's a new experience I told myself.
The food was good but I was happy to get out. Whenever anything is dirty I get goose bumps and feel absolutely gross. I decided to have one more adventure before going home. I had heard about the President's daughter's restaurant which flies in cheesecake daily from Moscow. I had been meaning to check it out and decided today would be the day.
After ordering a chocolate cheesecake and wolfing it down, I hailed a cab. The car seemed to be driving fast and I told myself I wouldn't get in. But when the driver pulled up he looked like a decent enough person so I got in. (I wish good judgement with taxi drivers could form some sort of business for me by the way). We began to converse, the normal questions came up. This time I said I was from Korea, that I now live in Tashkent, and that my husband works here. He said he actually isn't a taxi driver and was on his way back from work, but did this unofficially when he was free. I really respect this. It is tough to get by here, and it seems so in tandem with the "sure, why not?" culture here. We chatted some more, and when I told him how kind I found the people here he seemed to really take it to heart. There is such great pride here and a strong sense of identity. When he dropped me off I asked how much. He refused to accept. He said he was on his way home and that it was his pleasure.
It's amazing what can happen in Tashkent.
Guilty as charged.
I just made a huge mistake.
So from Samarqand I brought back some bread for both Masturaba and my co-workers. Given we have clients coming in tomorrow, I started cleaning up a little. I figured after being out for 2 days, the bread would spoil, and it wouldn't look nice being out.
I threw it away and the whole office jumped. Basically, you cannot throw bread away here, it's considered incredibly precious. It's almost akin to killing someone. They have great respect for bread. It is served at the beginning of every meal, and during the war people were desperate and begging for just a piece of bread. I genuinely committed a really big offense. I told them to please tell me these types of things, b/c I don't want to make any big mistakes while I am here.
So last night I went to Caravan with Tri, from Ilkhom theater. We sat on the tapchang outside and had Uzbek food. While I was there I also checked out the restaurant next door, Izumi. A stunningly modern Japanese place that made you feel like you were in NY rather than Tashkent.
So from Samarqand I brought back some bread for both Masturaba and my co-workers. Given we have clients coming in tomorrow, I started cleaning up a little. I figured after being out for 2 days, the bread would spoil, and it wouldn't look nice being out.
I threw it away and the whole office jumped. Basically, you cannot throw bread away here, it's considered incredibly precious. It's almost akin to killing someone. They have great respect for bread. It is served at the beginning of every meal, and during the war people were desperate and begging for just a piece of bread. I genuinely committed a really big offense. I told them to please tell me these types of things, b/c I don't want to make any big mistakes while I am here.
So last night I went to Caravan with Tri, from Ilkhom theater. We sat on the tapchang outside and had Uzbek food. While I was there I also checked out the restaurant next door, Izumi. A stunningly modern Japanese place that made you feel like you were in NY rather than Tashkent.
Monday, July 7, 2008
It's begun.
I'm not sure what it is, but today I am feeling incredibly sad.
I am slowly beginning to prepare for my return. Frustration with problems with logging into my upenn account, changing my plane ticket, and slowly having to prepare for the reality that awaits.
I woke up really tired and called my co-worker to tell him I'd be about an hour late. Yesterday was Mokhir's last day. I am not sure if it is because of the emptiness of his place that the mood was different, but when I walked in the office was unusually quiet and the whole place felt sad. I think they felt really sad to no longer have him here. But this combined with my already sad mood just made it worse.
Last Thursday I went to the American Embassy's 4th of July party. The embassy was gorgeous, security was tight. When I went through the sensor they said they had to take away my phone.
In the US I'm dependent on internet, but here I feel vulnerable without my phone. It's my main conduit for safety, communication. I had a look of panic and fear on my face, they said they would return it to me later. I said, you promise? The stern security guards dressed in green broke into smiles and said, yes, we promise.
There was a dance show and buffet lines of food. I made a small attempt to speak with 2 other expat women, but realizing they had been here for a while and weren't interested in making new friends with me, I decided to give up on being social. I quickly ate my meal quietly and suddenly felt like going to Chun-gi-wa.
It had been a while since I saw the owner and Svetlana. They were sitting with some guests. Oddly, they had me sent to the private room to eat.
I ordered my kimchi jigae (oddly, I crave Korean food pretty often here) and Svetlana came in. My number had been deleted and she had been waiting for me to call. I, on the otherhand, had figured something had happened and didn't want to bother her, so I didn't call. It was so nice to be so open about a personal misunderstanding and resolve it in a foreign country.
The owner came in later. He said I should hurry up and find a man and get married. I said no, then I'll have a headache. He said, you must've had experience. I said I don't know. He said when? I said I don't know. He said don't play innocent. I said it's not that, the past is in the past, you're not supposed to talk of such personal things so freely. He then said it's natural for a woman and man to feel something, but women being women will hold back, whereas men wont. I asked why, but then said you know what, I don't need to know such details. I should've realized at this point that something was different.
Some of his friends stopped into say hi to him. Thing is, these friends look like hard core gangsters. I know they play cards in one of the private rooms until late in the evening, but just a simple glance scared the lights out of me. One of them took one step in the room and the owner made a noise, basically saying don't you dare come in. It was nice.
It was time to go home and I asked Svetlana to help me get a cab. He said he would drop me off. I assumed his driver would take us, but he hailed a cab and took me back. Oddly, when we got to my hotel he stepped out of the cab. I stood and said well thank you for bringing me. He said I thought we could have tea. I said I"m sorry, I have an early morning.
A while later it hit me. So I guess "tea" is code for something else with Asian men. And what began as friendly hang outs with Svetlana and the owner, had now turned to something else. He felt something. And I can't say when I first met him I didn't either.
I guess the difference is when you're older, you just know. But after a little bit of drama here, I don't want any more upheaval. And not only that, I genuinely enjoy going there and hanging out with them. I like not knowing what could've been. And I like keeping them as life long friends.
But boy what a day that was.
Last night I met up with Tri, the American who is an actor at Ilkhom Theatre. When I initially gave him my contact info I thought I wouldn't hear from him. He's been here for a year and a half, has his friends. I am probably more a burden than anything since I don't know many things here. But fortunately, we've kept in touch and decided to meet up at Caravan, an upscale Uzbek restaurant I've been meaning to check out.
Over the weekend I went to Buxara and Samarqand. My co-worker Farkhad was kind enough to accompany me. The simple things I could do for myself in NY I can no longer do here. Even finding out the train schedule, buying a ticket, I cannot do on my own here. I get worried they may tell me to go to the OVIR office and register my passport, I don't know where to look for the times, not to mention the website isn't in English. He was kind enough to wake up at 5am that morning to accompany me. But something else that was unusual happened that morning.
There was one evening I was catching a cab and found the nicest taxi driver. He was an older man and very sincere. He didn't overcharge me even though I was a foreigner, which is highly unusual here. Even after he dropped me off I thought of him, that he was so nice, and that I wish I had gotten his number to be able to call next time I needed a taxi.
Well, fate will have it that that morning one of the hotel people was helping me get a cab and guess who pulled up. I couldn't believe it. I said we met before, right? This is the 2nd time? He said da, da. We had a stilted yet simple conversation, I was so overjoyed. I saw this as a good omen for the trip. But for some reason I didn't try to get his contact info again.
We took the train to Buxhara and the ride up was gorgeous. This country is hilarious, I love the sense of freedom and the way people live by feelings/instinct. You would see horses, trees, and cows on the way. Then suddenly a random bed. A lot of people sleep outside, and there was no care about social norms or normalcy. Just heck, it's nice out, I'll put a bed out and sleep there. With the cows and horses around, under a tree.
There were also the most adorable children outside. The image of 4 young children standing outside and waving to us on the train. I remember what it was like, being so excited every time a train or plane would go by, feeling curious where it was going, hoping someone would see me wave and wave back. The hopes, dreams. There was something so touching about it.
I was so in awe of all the cows and donkeys I got to see while we were driving. There was something so nice and natural of driving along and then randomly seeing donkeys and cows just do their thing.
In Buxhara, we first went to a Soviet Korean restaurant. It was in complete traditional Uzbek style and run by a Go-ryo-in. The food was a mixture of Chinese, Korean, and Uzbek food, and surprisingly they had just opened up another restaurant called "Ariran", which was actually written in Korean.
We went to a bunch of souvenier shops, but what was disappointing was you could see the tourist influences in the place. A lot was written in English, you could feel how much the area was beginning to cater to the tourists. I realized, in a way, tourism actually takes away the culture in these places.
There is a small group of Buxaran jews remaining and the remains of their Synagogue. On our search to find the place, we asked a group of 3 men outside their home where it was. They spoke in perfect Uzbek, wearing the Uzbek skull hats. But something about the way the eldest man spoke mesmerized me. He spoke in a very polite way, but there was something controlled about him, as though he couldn't express himself too freely, or show himself too much. They also looked slightly different from the local Uzbeks. I realized these were actual Buxaran Jews we stumbled across. It was amazing how they carried so much history in the way they carried themselves. I couldn't believe I actually had met some Buxaran Jews.
I ended up buying a local style jacket. It's traditional ware but the one I liked most and the one I could fit into was actually for a little boy. I hope I do wear it when I get back, but most likely I'll throw it on with a pair of jeans.
We also went to Labi house, Kalon Minor, Ark then back to Labi house where we took a taxi to Navoi. On our way there I got stopped for the first time here in Uzbekistan. They asked to see all our passports. This is when I get nervous. My co-worker said some things about me being a tourist, etc. and I reached my hand out to get my passport to show him my visa, but he kind of laughed and so did everyone else. I guess it looked like I was really worried and wanted my passport back. Which was also true.
I wanted to check out Lake Aidurkul, about 75km north of Navoi. Apparently there are yurta camps there, a lake, camel trekking, and some fishing. Farkhad had a bad feeling about it and preferred not to. I said come on, let's try, there's 2 of us. The worst that happens is we end up somewhere else. I couldn't be that brave if I were travelling alone, but being with someone else gave me the courage to be adventurous and just wing it, something that has become so difficult for me to do.
I have been very sensitive to cab drivers since coming here. I don't know what it is. I can read in their eyes, their demeanor, and by sensing whether someone is okay or not. We met a very kind, genuine person as our driver. He said he needed to stop by his home to get gas. I didn't understand what this meant. We pull up to his house and he brings out a plastic canister of gasoline. Farkhad had a headache, so I requested we stop at a pharmacy and get Citramon, an awesome local headache medicine. We went to Navoi and stopped at a scary taxi stand. I was too scared to get out of the car, but fortunately, as it is a Muslim culture here, the men take care of everything. I stayed in the car while the driver and Farkhad went out to find out how we could get to Aidarkul. Negative. So we went to the nearest hotel, Hotel Navoi.
It was a huge, grand, Soviet style hotel. They had clocks with the time zones of Dubai, NY, Seoul, London. Perfect I thought. I was running low on cash, and since they had clocks I could probably exchange money. Negative.
I had read about this type of hotel in Anna Karenina and in Jim Rodgers books, but never had I officially planned to stay in one. The bathroom had dead mosquitoes all over the walls. The toilet was a rusty brown color. Not only that, the bottom of the shower floor had a thick film of black mold and soot. The bed was barely a twin mattress if at all. There was a huge outdated fan. It was a serious health hazard and worse than sleeping outside under a tree.
But this is when I realized why imagination is so important. I told myself, think back to those books. It's one night of your life, you can truly understand the feeling of the scenes in those books. Bear with it.
After walking around town for a little bit, we finally went back to our rooms. I woke up around 4am to the sound of a mosquito. After living in Ecuador my body trembles to the "zing" sound despite being fast asleep. I got up chasing this mosquito around to try to kill it. Most of the time, if you swat and move around, the mosquitos get scared away. But this was a Soviet hotel mosquito, it had survived so much worse. Despite my swatting it would still come straight at me and land. It was terrible. I think after about 45 min I finally got it and went to sleep. Only to be woken by another.
I went out on the balcony, had a smoke, and came back in. I finally got it and was so excited we'd be leaving in a few hours.
We went on to Samarqand where we first stopped at a local restaurant Bek. We have a branch in Tashkent too, and they also own Sayor, another restaurant I've been to. But better than all this, it had air conditioning. After 2 days of traveling in the heat without showering, a/c with cold drinks was the best thing in the world. We lazed around there for 2-3 hours. And unfortunately I got it again: TD. Fortunately, I had brought one immodium with me, but it didn't work well or fast enough. I couldn't say anything to my co-worker about this though!
We went on and saw Bibi Khanym's mosque, one of Timerlane's wives. Legend has it that she was Chinese (locals say Mongolian) and while Timerlane was away she decided to build it as a surprise. The architect ended up falling in love with her and left a kiss on her cheek. Timur saw this and had him quickly executed. The fruits of forbidden love.
The mosques are gorgeous all over Uzbekistan. The domes are made of this incredible turquoise like blue. I bought a bunch of souveniers there, including a painting of the Registan square. It had a lot of simple detail and felt so relaxing to look at. I realized I had become sensitive to not only taxi drivers but shop owners. If I got the sense they were aggressive or very tricky with their pricing, I just didn't bother. I also bought a plate, some tiles, postcards, and some small handcrafted boxes.
We took another car back to Tashkent in the evening. I was so happy we got this driver. He was around 70 years old and exuded an aura of serenity, peace, and wisdom. It turns out he was actually Tajik and wore a Tajik hat. He played Tajik/Uzbek folk songs in the car, I was in heaven. It's this type of feeling I love so much. I had such a good time, he said next time if I come to Samarqand I could stay at his home. That he had 15 grand children, a huge house. I told him I would love to.
I am slowly beginning to prepare for my return. Frustration with problems with logging into my upenn account, changing my plane ticket, and slowly having to prepare for the reality that awaits.
I woke up really tired and called my co-worker to tell him I'd be about an hour late. Yesterday was Mokhir's last day. I am not sure if it is because of the emptiness of his place that the mood was different, but when I walked in the office was unusually quiet and the whole place felt sad. I think they felt really sad to no longer have him here. But this combined with my already sad mood just made it worse.
Last Thursday I went to the American Embassy's 4th of July party. The embassy was gorgeous, security was tight. When I went through the sensor they said they had to take away my phone.
In the US I'm dependent on internet, but here I feel vulnerable without my phone. It's my main conduit for safety, communication. I had a look of panic and fear on my face, they said they would return it to me later. I said, you promise? The stern security guards dressed in green broke into smiles and said, yes, we promise.
There was a dance show and buffet lines of food. I made a small attempt to speak with 2 other expat women, but realizing they had been here for a while and weren't interested in making new friends with me, I decided to give up on being social. I quickly ate my meal quietly and suddenly felt like going to Chun-gi-wa.
It had been a while since I saw the owner and Svetlana. They were sitting with some guests. Oddly, they had me sent to the private room to eat.
I ordered my kimchi jigae (oddly, I crave Korean food pretty often here) and Svetlana came in. My number had been deleted and she had been waiting for me to call. I, on the otherhand, had figured something had happened and didn't want to bother her, so I didn't call. It was so nice to be so open about a personal misunderstanding and resolve it in a foreign country.
The owner came in later. He said I should hurry up and find a man and get married. I said no, then I'll have a headache. He said, you must've had experience. I said I don't know. He said when? I said I don't know. He said don't play innocent. I said it's not that, the past is in the past, you're not supposed to talk of such personal things so freely. He then said it's natural for a woman and man to feel something, but women being women will hold back, whereas men wont. I asked why, but then said you know what, I don't need to know such details. I should've realized at this point that something was different.
Some of his friends stopped into say hi to him. Thing is, these friends look like hard core gangsters. I know they play cards in one of the private rooms until late in the evening, but just a simple glance scared the lights out of me. One of them took one step in the room and the owner made a noise, basically saying don't you dare come in. It was nice.
It was time to go home and I asked Svetlana to help me get a cab. He said he would drop me off. I assumed his driver would take us, but he hailed a cab and took me back. Oddly, when we got to my hotel he stepped out of the cab. I stood and said well thank you for bringing me. He said I thought we could have tea. I said I"m sorry, I have an early morning.
A while later it hit me. So I guess "tea" is code for something else with Asian men. And what began as friendly hang outs with Svetlana and the owner, had now turned to something else. He felt something. And I can't say when I first met him I didn't either.
I guess the difference is when you're older, you just know. But after a little bit of drama here, I don't want any more upheaval. And not only that, I genuinely enjoy going there and hanging out with them. I like not knowing what could've been. And I like keeping them as life long friends.
But boy what a day that was.
Last night I met up with Tri, the American who is an actor at Ilkhom Theatre. When I initially gave him my contact info I thought I wouldn't hear from him. He's been here for a year and a half, has his friends. I am probably more a burden than anything since I don't know many things here. But fortunately, we've kept in touch and decided to meet up at Caravan, an upscale Uzbek restaurant I've been meaning to check out.
Over the weekend I went to Buxara and Samarqand. My co-worker Farkhad was kind enough to accompany me. The simple things I could do for myself in NY I can no longer do here. Even finding out the train schedule, buying a ticket, I cannot do on my own here. I get worried they may tell me to go to the OVIR office and register my passport, I don't know where to look for the times, not to mention the website isn't in English. He was kind enough to wake up at 5am that morning to accompany me. But something else that was unusual happened that morning.
There was one evening I was catching a cab and found the nicest taxi driver. He was an older man and very sincere. He didn't overcharge me even though I was a foreigner, which is highly unusual here. Even after he dropped me off I thought of him, that he was so nice, and that I wish I had gotten his number to be able to call next time I needed a taxi.
Well, fate will have it that that morning one of the hotel people was helping me get a cab and guess who pulled up. I couldn't believe it. I said we met before, right? This is the 2nd time? He said da, da. We had a stilted yet simple conversation, I was so overjoyed. I saw this as a good omen for the trip. But for some reason I didn't try to get his contact info again.
We took the train to Buxhara and the ride up was gorgeous. This country is hilarious, I love the sense of freedom and the way people live by feelings/instinct. You would see horses, trees, and cows on the way. Then suddenly a random bed. A lot of people sleep outside, and there was no care about social norms or normalcy. Just heck, it's nice out, I'll put a bed out and sleep there. With the cows and horses around, under a tree.
There were also the most adorable children outside. The image of 4 young children standing outside and waving to us on the train. I remember what it was like, being so excited every time a train or plane would go by, feeling curious where it was going, hoping someone would see me wave and wave back. The hopes, dreams. There was something so touching about it.
I was so in awe of all the cows and donkeys I got to see while we were driving. There was something so nice and natural of driving along and then randomly seeing donkeys and cows just do their thing.
In Buxhara, we first went to a Soviet Korean restaurant. It was in complete traditional Uzbek style and run by a Go-ryo-in. The food was a mixture of Chinese, Korean, and Uzbek food, and surprisingly they had just opened up another restaurant called "Ariran", which was actually written in Korean.
We went to a bunch of souvenier shops, but what was disappointing was you could see the tourist influences in the place. A lot was written in English, you could feel how much the area was beginning to cater to the tourists. I realized, in a way, tourism actually takes away the culture in these places.
There is a small group of Buxaran jews remaining and the remains of their Synagogue. On our search to find the place, we asked a group of 3 men outside their home where it was. They spoke in perfect Uzbek, wearing the Uzbek skull hats. But something about the way the eldest man spoke mesmerized me. He spoke in a very polite way, but there was something controlled about him, as though he couldn't express himself too freely, or show himself too much. They also looked slightly different from the local Uzbeks. I realized these were actual Buxaran Jews we stumbled across. It was amazing how they carried so much history in the way they carried themselves. I couldn't believe I actually had met some Buxaran Jews.
I ended up buying a local style jacket. It's traditional ware but the one I liked most and the one I could fit into was actually for a little boy. I hope I do wear it when I get back, but most likely I'll throw it on with a pair of jeans.
We also went to Labi house, Kalon Minor, Ark then back to Labi house where we took a taxi to Navoi. On our way there I got stopped for the first time here in Uzbekistan. They asked to see all our passports. This is when I get nervous. My co-worker said some things about me being a tourist, etc. and I reached my hand out to get my passport to show him my visa, but he kind of laughed and so did everyone else. I guess it looked like I was really worried and wanted my passport back. Which was also true.
I wanted to check out Lake Aidurkul, about 75km north of Navoi. Apparently there are yurta camps there, a lake, camel trekking, and some fishing. Farkhad had a bad feeling about it and preferred not to. I said come on, let's try, there's 2 of us. The worst that happens is we end up somewhere else. I couldn't be that brave if I were travelling alone, but being with someone else gave me the courage to be adventurous and just wing it, something that has become so difficult for me to do.
I have been very sensitive to cab drivers since coming here. I don't know what it is. I can read in their eyes, their demeanor, and by sensing whether someone is okay or not. We met a very kind, genuine person as our driver. He said he needed to stop by his home to get gas. I didn't understand what this meant. We pull up to his house and he brings out a plastic canister of gasoline. Farkhad had a headache, so I requested we stop at a pharmacy and get Citramon, an awesome local headache medicine. We went to Navoi and stopped at a scary taxi stand. I was too scared to get out of the car, but fortunately, as it is a Muslim culture here, the men take care of everything. I stayed in the car while the driver and Farkhad went out to find out how we could get to Aidarkul. Negative. So we went to the nearest hotel, Hotel Navoi.
It was a huge, grand, Soviet style hotel. They had clocks with the time zones of Dubai, NY, Seoul, London. Perfect I thought. I was running low on cash, and since they had clocks I could probably exchange money. Negative.
I had read about this type of hotel in Anna Karenina and in Jim Rodgers books, but never had I officially planned to stay in one. The bathroom had dead mosquitoes all over the walls. The toilet was a rusty brown color. Not only that, the bottom of the shower floor had a thick film of black mold and soot. The bed was barely a twin mattress if at all. There was a huge outdated fan. It was a serious health hazard and worse than sleeping outside under a tree.
But this is when I realized why imagination is so important. I told myself, think back to those books. It's one night of your life, you can truly understand the feeling of the scenes in those books. Bear with it.
After walking around town for a little bit, we finally went back to our rooms. I woke up around 4am to the sound of a mosquito. After living in Ecuador my body trembles to the "zing" sound despite being fast asleep. I got up chasing this mosquito around to try to kill it. Most of the time, if you swat and move around, the mosquitos get scared away. But this was a Soviet hotel mosquito, it had survived so much worse. Despite my swatting it would still come straight at me and land. It was terrible. I think after about 45 min I finally got it and went to sleep. Only to be woken by another.
I went out on the balcony, had a smoke, and came back in. I finally got it and was so excited we'd be leaving in a few hours.
We went on to Samarqand where we first stopped at a local restaurant Bek. We have a branch in Tashkent too, and they also own Sayor, another restaurant I've been to. But better than all this, it had air conditioning. After 2 days of traveling in the heat without showering, a/c with cold drinks was the best thing in the world. We lazed around there for 2-3 hours. And unfortunately I got it again: TD. Fortunately, I had brought one immodium with me, but it didn't work well or fast enough. I couldn't say anything to my co-worker about this though!
We went on and saw Bibi Khanym's mosque, one of Timerlane's wives. Legend has it that she was Chinese (locals say Mongolian) and while Timerlane was away she decided to build it as a surprise. The architect ended up falling in love with her and left a kiss on her cheek. Timur saw this and had him quickly executed. The fruits of forbidden love.
The mosques are gorgeous all over Uzbekistan. The domes are made of this incredible turquoise like blue. I bought a bunch of souveniers there, including a painting of the Registan square. It had a lot of simple detail and felt so relaxing to look at. I realized I had become sensitive to not only taxi drivers but shop owners. If I got the sense they were aggressive or very tricky with their pricing, I just didn't bother. I also bought a plate, some tiles, postcards, and some small handcrafted boxes.
We took another car back to Tashkent in the evening. I was so happy we got this driver. He was around 70 years old and exuded an aura of serenity, peace, and wisdom. It turns out he was actually Tajik and wore a Tajik hat. He played Tajik/Uzbek folk songs in the car, I was in heaven. It's this type of feeling I love so much. I had such a good time, he said next time if I come to Samarqand I could stay at his home. That he had 15 grand children, a huge house. I told him I would love to.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Almaty, Kazakhstan
Before I knew it a week has flown by. So much happens in a day while I'm here, but will try my best to remember back.
Before she left for Iran, my friend Yuri and I hung out. We went to Quyun, a local, outdoor shashlyk place by the river for dinner. Then on our way out across the street we heard music and noticed another outdoor place. This one was called Isotqol and was beautiful. An outdoor Turkish restaurant with these beautiful red, yellow, and blue interlaced tents by the water, plus with the wonderful mix of local Uzbek and Russian music, the setting was beautiful.
One thing about Tashkent here is they have the most wonderful nights. The weather cools down and has a slight breeze, and makes for the most perfect outdoor weather.
Before she left we also club hopped a bit to try to find a place that was open on a Tuesday night. We first started off at CataKoumba where for the first time I felt harassed. There was a big guy who wouldn't leave me alone despite my repeatedly saying I had a really huge husband. While I was calling my co-worker for directions to the next place, the guy got into the taxi and started talking to the driver.
My co-workers and family have done an excellent job of instilling fear in me regarding kidnapping. Scared/worried they could be collaborating or scheming something, I called my co-worker again and asked him to speak to the driver. I told him to act really scary, lower his voice (his voice is kind of high), and say that he's my husband. He even took it one step further and told the driver that he would be waiting for me at the next destination. It's amazing how clever you become when your survival instincts kick in.
We checked out Platinum but it was empty. We went to Fashion bar but it was dead. Club 25 was closed. And we finally ended up at the Diplomat.
It's amazing. Only 2 evenings before I had been at the Diplomat and had one of the most amazing nights of my life. I think the chemistry and the stars had been perfectly aligned that night. It was so fun that it almost didn't seem it really happened. The night me and Yuri went it was completely dead. We realized it was probably because the soccer game had been on.
In the last week I also checked out an AmCham meeting. They have gatherings once a month, and this one was at the shi shi restaurant Jumanji.
I am the first to admit I am not fond of a lot of the expat thing. I had been hesitant to go, but am so glad I did.
I met some incredibly interesting and genuine people who have made Tashkent their real home. None of the upcomance or snobbery you often see with expats, but rather they have embraced it as theirs, and learned to do things the Uzbek way, which can often be counter-intuitive and frustrating to those of us from the west.
Afterwards I checked out the Irish pub where I met another wonderful family. The husband is American from Texas with the most gorgeous Uzbek wife, originally from Buxara and apparently Persian in ethnicity. Their daughter Roxanna was a hoot and holler, I couldn't stop laughing.
I ended up going with them to Alis, which turned out to be a go-ryo-in restaurant. It was similar to Casanova, the first club I accidentally ended up at. A large restaurant layout with dancing in the middle.
The next day on Saturday, I went to a session one of the expats held. Amazingly, he found an herbalist (han-ae-won) who comes from a family of 400 years of history. During the Soviet times he studied Archeology to basically go into hiding and preserve his life. He would've otherwise been persecuted for being a witch or a heretic. After Uzbekistan's independence he has come back to his family tradition. He checks your health the old traditional way which is to hold your wrist lightly. The true healers/herbalists can read all your vital signs and know exactly what is wrong with you by doing this.
Well, for me, he said I am pretty weak. That blood doesn't flow well to my lungs or heart. That I get headaches often. That I have some stomach problems. And that I have sadness.
Needless to say, I wasn't going to go into the last one. I would love to follow up with him and have more sessions, but my next weekends are likely to be filled with trying to go to Samarkand and possibly some more traveling if I can.
Before she left for Iran, my friend Yuri and I hung out. We went to Quyun, a local, outdoor shashlyk place by the river for dinner. Then on our way out across the street we heard music and noticed another outdoor place. This one was called Isotqol and was beautiful. An outdoor Turkish restaurant with these beautiful red, yellow, and blue interlaced tents by the water, plus with the wonderful mix of local Uzbek and Russian music, the setting was beautiful.
One thing about Tashkent here is they have the most wonderful nights. The weather cools down and has a slight breeze, and makes for the most perfect outdoor weather.
Before she left we also club hopped a bit to try to find a place that was open on a Tuesday night. We first started off at CataKoumba where for the first time I felt harassed. There was a big guy who wouldn't leave me alone despite my repeatedly saying I had a really huge husband. While I was calling my co-worker for directions to the next place, the guy got into the taxi and started talking to the driver.
My co-workers and family have done an excellent job of instilling fear in me regarding kidnapping. Scared/worried they could be collaborating or scheming something, I called my co-worker again and asked him to speak to the driver. I told him to act really scary, lower his voice (his voice is kind of high), and say that he's my husband. He even took it one step further and told the driver that he would be waiting for me at the next destination. It's amazing how clever you become when your survival instincts kick in.
We checked out Platinum but it was empty. We went to Fashion bar but it was dead. Club 25 was closed. And we finally ended up at the Diplomat.
It's amazing. Only 2 evenings before I had been at the Diplomat and had one of the most amazing nights of my life. I think the chemistry and the stars had been perfectly aligned that night. It was so fun that it almost didn't seem it really happened. The night me and Yuri went it was completely dead. We realized it was probably because the soccer game had been on.
In the last week I also checked out an AmCham meeting. They have gatherings once a month, and this one was at the shi shi restaurant Jumanji.
I am the first to admit I am not fond of a lot of the expat thing. I had been hesitant to go, but am so glad I did.
I met some incredibly interesting and genuine people who have made Tashkent their real home. None of the upcomance or snobbery you often see with expats, but rather they have embraced it as theirs, and learned to do things the Uzbek way, which can often be counter-intuitive and frustrating to those of us from the west.
Afterwards I checked out the Irish pub where I met another wonderful family. The husband is American from Texas with the most gorgeous Uzbek wife, originally from Buxara and apparently Persian in ethnicity. Their daughter Roxanna was a hoot and holler, I couldn't stop laughing.
I ended up going with them to Alis, which turned out to be a go-ryo-in restaurant. It was similar to Casanova, the first club I accidentally ended up at. A large restaurant layout with dancing in the middle.
The next day on Saturday, I went to a session one of the expats held. Amazingly, he found an herbalist (han-ae-won) who comes from a family of 400 years of history. During the Soviet times he studied Archeology to basically go into hiding and preserve his life. He would've otherwise been persecuted for being a witch or a heretic. After Uzbekistan's independence he has come back to his family tradition. He checks your health the old traditional way which is to hold your wrist lightly. The true healers/herbalists can read all your vital signs and know exactly what is wrong with you by doing this.
Well, for me, he said I am pretty weak. That blood doesn't flow well to my lungs or heart. That I get headaches often. That I have some stomach problems. And that I have sadness.
Needless to say, I wasn't going to go into the last one. I would love to follow up with him and have more sessions, but my next weekends are likely to be filled with trying to go to Samarkand and possibly some more traveling if I can.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)