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.