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.