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.

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.

Training

A random series of events, 1 hour of sleep, exhaustive and extensive questioning while training my team... I am so drained right now.

Long story short, last night I hit the gym for the first time in ages at the Dedeman Hotel across the street. It's a pretty expensive Turkish hotel but given the treadmills don't work at my hotel, I decided to check it out. They charge $20 for one day, but the pool was beautiful despite being small. It had the most perfect lawn chairs and would be a great place to work out, then read by the pool or go for a nighttime swim. Afterwards, I checked out a nightclub here, the Diplomat Club. Given it was a Mon night most of the clubs were closed. A friend I made at the hotel happens to speak fluent Russian and he somehow found a cab driver who knew the "in" scene here. Surprisingly, it was really good. The music was awesome, they had a really good dance show, along with my favorite local wine, "Mona Liza".

Today I began the training session for the kids here. I know I should stop calling them that. But for some reason I feel so protective of them. In any case, after poring through tons of research I decided to pick Russian Pharmaceuticals to start with. The Soviet form of education has been that what the teacher says, goes. There's no questioning, etc. One of the things I'm trying to do while here is train them to formulate their own opinion and encourage them in discourse. As they all speak good English, are intelligent, and extremely kind, I expect some will work in other countries in the future. Being a research analyst is also tough to explain. There is no one right approach, one right way, or one end conclusion. But some of their thinking is still, but "what's the answer?" It's been both exciting and challenging to observe this and try to break this mold.

But with very little sleep, an emotionally draining night, and the really hot weather, I am running on low. They are so interested when I train them. But they like to debate, argue, and one member in particular loves to question everything slightly as a joke, but also because he enjoys speaking his opinion. It's been challenging keeping them in order, staying patient, and maintaining a fine but strict border between discourage and challenging just for the sake of challenging.

And I realized today I find debating and arguing absolutely exhausting. If someone has a different opinion and I disagree, it takes more energy out of me to try to convince them of why I might be right than to just respect that they have a different opinion and move on. Also having never taught, I was surprised by the level of focus and tension it takes out of me. It's been interesting trying to figure out the best ways to teach them while thinking of their long term interests in mind. I've also been surprised by the level of maturity and diplomacy needed when you are training a team. It's been taking me to new levels as I try to take them there as well. But my god it's been a long day.

I decided to skip belly dancing class tonight and sign up for a massage and get some rest. It's moments like now that I wish the technique in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind were really real. I could use it right now.

Weekend

Friday night I went to the Ilkhom Theater and watched a play, "Feelings". It was in Russian so I couldn't understand most of it, but there was an actor who had some lines in English and I quickly realized he was from the States. Excited, I waited for the play to end and introduced myself. Turns out his name is Tree (sp?) and he's from California! He's been living in Tashkent for the last year and a half. It felt so nice to speak English fluidly with someone and to understand each other's experiences living here.

Afterwards, I went to Chun Gi Wa as Svetlana had called and said to stop by. I hung out with her and the owner and ran into Rosa or Larisa at the restaurant! I can't remember which one it was to be honest. But her guest happened to be staying at my hotel so they dropped me off afterwards.

Saturday I was too lazy to venture out, but wanted to at least do something. I went to the pool and there was the cutest kid there. I asked the mom how old he was. We began to talk. It turns out the family's been living here for 3-4 years. She said she could understand Russian now but couldn't really speak. But she knew one phrase perfectly, "Ya ne znayo", which is "I don't know" and probably one of the most important phrases to learn.

Afterwards I went to my room but quickly came back down. There was music and something seemed to be going on. It turns out LG was having a raffle for refrigerators, dishwashers, etc. but in order to get the prizes they made people do the most hilarious things. They had dance offs, grandfather's swim fully clothed, people pick random numbers and the one with the highest total winning. But they also had a short but beautiful dance show with real arabic dancing which was my personal highlight.

That morning while trying to see if the internet in the lobby would work (it's been down at the hotel), I happened to be sitting at the same table as a guy watching World Cup. Long story short, I had no plans Saturday night and was waiting to hear from my co-worker (yes, the one I have a crush on). Well, no word from him, but I got invited to dinner from the guy watching World Cup and his boss, as well as Svetlana and ironically her boss. I went to meet Svetlana and her boss and we first stopped by this beautiful outdoor place. Koreans love grilled pork, and Uzbekistan being a Muslim country, there isn't a lot of pork around. But apparently he's been coming here so often that he brings his own lettuce, spices, and kimchi, to eat his own mini "sam-gyup-sal". Well, the place ran out of pork b/c we got there too late, but we ended up going to another place around the corner which turned out to be a ko-ryo-in restaurant. The pork was delicious. I personally love pork, and for some reason I've been craving Korean food til no end here. It was one of the best meals I've had in so long. We talked about so many things, but it was the first time I realized while to me Uzbekistan holds so many secrets and curiosities, for others it's a place without choices.

Having a bit too much of a really good wine I discovered that night, a chilled "Mona Lisa", I crashed and passed out in bed.

Sunday I decided to go see one of the museums. The hotel staff and the driver hadn't even heard of the museum. After stopping along the way a few times, we finally found it and I went in. There were 4 floors of beautiful artwork. They even had 2 Kandinsky's, ceramics, doors with beautiful ornate wood carvings where you could see the similarities amongst the countries on the silk road. But what stood out in my mind the most was this one section. There was a ko-ryo-in painter who had painted a set of 4 paintings reflective of each season. And in each one he painted a card or "hwa-too". But this one painting titled "Freedom" took my breath away. There were Korean women dancing in hanboks with Russian militia standing around. There were banners in the background, one written in Russian, one written in Korean... I was so moved. I could feel the longing for this painter's home country mixed with having adjusted to this foreign country. It made me so sad.

I returned to the hotel and went on my weekly ritual to the Oloy Bazaar to buy fruit. They sell fruit here by kilo's or the weight, but once again I explained in my broken Russian that I would like 2 of these, 3 of those, etc. I also bought some iced teas and bottled water at the "Supermarket". To give you an idea of how much the foreigner markup is, a huge 2 liter bottle of water at the Supermarket cost me 600 soums. At the hotel a 1 liter bottle costs me 4,000 soums. I vowed never to buy water at the hotel again after I realized this. I also felt more at home after having gone real grocery shopping. The funny guy from the morning before who was watching the World Cup called. Funny thing is when we met he asked how long I was here. I said another month but that I don't want to return. He said omg, you have another month? I've been bored to death being here only 2 weeks. I went to dinner with him and his boss and we got the pork belly again, yay! But it was a lot of fun talking to them and they played ping pong outside. It turns out the boss is here on a project and the younger guy is basically here as his translator. But the boss doesn't know how to do anything, so the translator can't leave his room in case the boss calls. And the boss will only call his room, not his cell phone.

The boss and I happen to both love walking so we walked back. The nights in Tashkent are gorgeous and there are a lot of really pretty parks you can walk through. The other guy said he hates walking most in life and cabbed it back. After I returned to the hotel, the young guy called and asked if I wanted to check out a bar and watch soccer. A side note, I don't know their names b/c 1) I'm really bad with Korean names and 2) it doesn't really matter. You kind of figure out who's oldest in Korea and address them by a title rather than name if you're the younger one. Anyhow, we went to this really nice bar called "Cmi bar". It looked like a place they would have in NY or Korea. Black, sleek, with a huge tv, I discovered a good beer Chim Gan from Kazakh. Long story short we were there til 235am b/c freaking Italy and Spain went into overtime. I lost 10 bucks on our bet, but had a lot of fun talking. I'm sad to know they're leaving tomorrow (Tuesday). I wish I had met them sooner.

After about a zillion wake up calls and alarms, I somehow managed to get up this morning. Anyhow, I'm back at work today. We'll see what this week holds.

Yay!

So. Today's a momentous day. I got my first belly dancing skirt, eeeee!!!

I've been wanting to get this since I took my first class a year ago. But I never found one I really liked.

I thought it would be the perfect souvenier from here.

After lunch, Malika took me to an outdoor bazaar I hadn't been to. It was very similar to the outdoor Korean markets. They sold blue jeans, shirts, dresses, bras, you name it. We went into a clothing shop where the owner was Korean. I gave her a warm hello and Malika translated. It's still so fascinating to me to see Koreans here.

We went to several places where they sold them. They didn't have many selections and to be honest, I didn't love any of them THAT much. But I settled on a light blue one with gold coins. I had been hoping to find a purple-ish tie-dyed type one, but I'm still happy nonetheless.

I also bought a purse and the owner spoke some English. Turns out she is half Uzbek and half Russian, a combination I haven't seen here and which seems to be unusual from my limited time here.

I loved the bag right when I saw it but to be honest, I don't know if I will still love it when I go to NY. This happens to me a lot when I shop abroad. What I find pretty or begin to like gets influenced by the culture I'm in. Then when I go back to the US I look at it and am like, how could I buy this?

Last night after oversleeping and overworrying the office b/c I was 2.5 hours late without a trace (I had taken a sleeping pill the night before from getting hit with insomnia again and writing in my blog for too long), I felt terrible. I also got out of work early and felt a little down as I had no real idea of what to do or where to go. So as I usually do in NY when I'm in this type of mood, I go for a manicure.

I went to my hotel salon and got denied. I went across the street to Dedeman's hotel spa, the first place I had went, and again denied. Desperate to finally get the over-due pedicure that made me both look and feel gross, I asked the young debushka at the hotel lobby if there was another place I could go. She told me of one around the corner.

Bingo. This is now my place.

In the hotel they generally charge like 12 euros or so for a pedicure, so $24. In the US this would be fine, but in Tashkent? This is a total rip off.

In my broken Russian and a very kind customer who spoke some English, this new place told me they charge 5,000 soums for a manicure and 7,000 for a pedi. This is more reasonable, though my co-worker said it's a bit higher than the average and is considered a nice salon.

I had an hour to kill, but fortunately, yesterday my language cd's came. I didn't mind waiting at all. I listened to my language cd for an hour while I waited and it felt so good to nourish my mind and start over from the basics again.

The ladies were wonderful. They were so funny. There is something so beautiful about women, the way we can connect and share common experiences and emotions just by virtue of being women. We talked about husbands, boyfriends. Then a woman asked me if I liked someone, and whether I've X'd something. I said what is that? And she puckered up her lips and made smooching noises! I screamed and laughed hysterically.

I was also so happy that they had my exact colors there. The last 8 years I have rarely deviated from my mani/pedi routine. My first manicure here in Tashkent, the spa at the Dedeman didn't have many choices so I had to get this ugly dark pinkish color. This place had both colors I usually use.

The funny thing is when I picked my usual pink for my hands, she said tsbet ne haroshi, ocheen plahoi. Basically, that color is so ugly, why are you picking that. I laughed and asked which color is considered pretty in Tashkent? She showed me bright reds, gold glitter you poured over your nails afterwards. I told her I love my ugly color.

I had so much fun with them and one of the best pedicures I've had in a long time.

I've had a thing about nails for a really long time. I don't feel settled until I find the right nail salon. In NY I had my place I went to for 8 years. In Tashkent, this one's it.

Wedding

I learned something yesterday.

So. The woman Rosa called me on Sunday and invited me to a wedding the following day. She said 2 Koreans would be getting married. I was overjoyed and ecstatic; this is the ultimate way to learn about Uzbek culture, but specifically the "go-ryo-in" culture. I felt as though God had sent me such a fortuitous blessing when I happened to run into her for that split moment outside my hotel. 5 minutes later and we would've missed each other. She told me to call her again when someone who speaks Russian would be able to take down the directions and instructions.

The next morning I asked my co-workers what would be an appropriate gift. What struck me as odd was that the wedding would be at 4pm on a Monday. They said if you're close you give money, but otherwise a small gift would be fine. Thing is, I felt like they were family given they were Korean. I wanted to give what I could.

I had my co-worker Bekzhod call her to get the instructions and to also get a sense of what the place would be like, how large the wedding was, etc. As overjoyed as I was, I also wanted to gauge the situation a bit and get an understanding of what the wedding would be like. Bekzhod, our office "opposition leader" who almost always disagrees with mass consensus, insisted a gift would be more appropriate. He also said I shouldn't go alone, and that I don't know what I'm getting myself into. That honestly her Russian was terrible, she sounded like she worked at the Oloy bazaar, and that he had never heard of that crappy place. I said that it would be fine, it was more like family, and part of being in a different country was to see more. I just wouldn't drink at the wedding. He said I've forgotten where I am, that I'm in a different country. I said if anything, I think it means I feel at home now and a bit more courageous/confident to experience new things. He said what if they beat you? I said I'll scream. He told me why don't you go to Afghanistan since you like risky situations. I said I would love to see more of the middle east if I get the chance later in a safe situation. I said if you're so worried why don't you come (Rosa had invited him earlier). He said he had plans, but that it was their responsibility to not let me go. Like hell I wasn't going to go.

Nevertheless, I was so nervous by his words I couldn't eat at lunch. I stayed back to make sure I'd finish my work to make it to the 4pm wedding.

Oddly, after they returned from lunch, Bekzhod said hey Jenny, do you want twix? To give you a sense of what this guy is like, last week while we were in the lunch line he said to me do you want coke to drink? I said yeah! He said can you get two? Another day I had bought twix for a mini dessert. He said, do you want all of that?

I had never seen him buy twix before but later realized it was b/c he noticed I didn't eat lunch and it was something he knew I liked.

I asked my co-workers for instructions to get to the floral shop (I decided on flowers) and I was so nervous I couldn't think straight. They are so sweet. They picked up on this, and Sherzhod said he would drive me and then drop me off at the hotel. I insisted I could find it on my own but he said no it's okay. Before I left I said to Bekzhod I should probably give you Rosa's number in case. He said why, you always say I'm so unreliable. I joked with all of them that if I didn't show up the next day, it meant I was either dead or I had too fun of a time.

Thank goodness Sherzhod came with me to the flower shop. The first place we went to, the Tashkent hotel, had a selection of 4 different types of roses and a very cold, young Russian girl who told me that each rose was 8,000 soum, or roughly $8. I didn't like the tone of her voice and I knew enough to know the price was ridiculous.

We went to another place down the street and fortunately, they had pre-arranged bouquets. I was so nervous I couldn't deal with picking which flowers to get, what would match, etc. I bought a little felt heart that said "I love you" and got a card.

Rosa had her driver pick me up and take me to the restaurant which was near the Russian embassy. She told me that there were actually 2 couples getting married. The men were from Korea and the women were Uzbek.

I realized she was part of a wedding business. There was a NY Times article a while ago about Korean men going to Vietnam in search of brides. There was also a movie, "Wedding Campaign", or "Kyu-rhon-ae jung-gi" about 2 Korean men who go to Uzbekistan in search of brides. I asked Rosa why these men came to Uzbekistan to find brides. She said they were bus drivers and in Korea the women wanted a much higher standard of life, and that Uzbek women could pick up Korean within 3 months or so. Apparently the men would come, meet about 20 women, narrow their choices down to 5, and then the women had the final say as to whether they would get married. They would spend between a week to 10 days getting to know them with the help of a translater.

One of the grooms looked like the sweetest, most sincere person. She told me that b/c he was kind of big and ugly (her words), he had a complex about his looks and women. He was 42 and had never been married. The other guy was much smaller, but to me he looked kind of tempermental. He reminded me of a gangster. Apparently he had been married once before and had two kids.

Rosa's partner, a man from Korea, also reminded me of a gangster. He had these sunglass type of glasses, and there was a toughness and scrappiness that made me uneasy.

On top of this, at my table one of the men kept trying to set me up with his son. I felt uneasy with all of this. What if they kidnapped me as a potential bride to set up with one of their grooms in their business? And I also realized I didn't know what kind of people I was dealing with. Sure Rosa was super nice to me so far, but that could easily turn in the wrong situation.

I looked back on the day, my nervousness throughout the day, and thought back to Bekzhod. I knew he had been so upset that I had gone. But I also was touched that he cared and felt such a sense of protectiveness. For some reason I felt he would be the right person to call. Not only would he take it seriously as his duty as a man, but I felt in a way I would also be giving back his pride. Normally out of pride I would've insisted on not giving in first. But this time, for some reason I felt differently. I felt he would feel like a man if after all his warnings I called and asked for his help. Okay, I know some of my friends want to kick me for the damsel in distress scenario. But bear with it.

I called and asked what he was doing after his meeting. He said he was thinking of working out, but asked why, whether I wanted him to come get me. I said yeah, maybe, but that if he had plans it was okay. He said he'd call me in a few hours. After he called, he said he would be 25 minutes. I said um, 45 minutes. He said but I want to drink if I go all the way there, you said there was good wine.

The center table for the 2 couples had 2 cakes and shared a common vase for flowers. The groom who looked really sweet, his wife looked equally sweet. Despite not speaking the same language and only having met a couple weeks before, you could just tell they were already so in sync. When she was hot he would fan her. They both looked so happy on their wedding day as though they had known each other forever. When they walked around the room they held hands. Her family kept going up to her, kissing her, wishing her well. I actually sat at their table and they were so kind. The woman next to me kept putting food on my plate. And when they danced her arm was close to his. The body language said I trust you and I will cherish you.

The other couple however, the bride's family was an hour and a half late (both brides' families were from the country side outside of Tashkent), she looked kind of sad, kept checking her cell phone, didn't really engage a lot with her husband when at the table, and when they danced there was a distance. They both looked a bit more reserved personality wise, but I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy about this couple, and could see some omens I didn't like. As a woman I felt so despondent. I realized how hard it is if you're a woman with very little opportunity and how sometimes risking your life into the unknown was your only chance at a better future. And being as superstitious as I am, there was things I saw that I wished I didn't see.

In any case, her family finally arrived and the festivities began. This is where I finally saw real Uzbek dancing. It is so beautiful. It is sort of a mix of Arabic and traditional Indian dancing. The way the older women could feel the music, move their hands in the most gorgeous ways. You could feel the wisdom, history, and the memories of their own wedding day as they danced. I was completely mesmerized.

Because the brides were Muslim they didn't have an oficiant at the ceremony. Instead, they had two boxes of rings for them, they did their cake cutting ceremony, and I took about a zillion pictures of everything.

I ran into the grooms on my way to the bathroom and during their smoke break. I congratulated them in Korean and wished them well. And I quietly told the nice looking groom, your wife looks like a genuinely kind woman. You guys look like such a nice match and I genuinely wish you well. Rosa had told me earlier in the night that he had actually picked another woman but the following day when he met this one, he said to Rosa, this is the one. And cancelled his previous preference for the other woman. I genuinely believe they are so well matched and believe destiny can be such a beautiful thing for them to be able to find each other despite literally being worlds apart. It reminded me of what my manicurist said before I left. How God made human beings able to communicate with each other without words. You didn't have to have that checklist or have lengthy conversations to be able to connect and feel and get each other. Whenever I looked at this couple I felt so overjoyed for them.

After 2 people took my phone away from me and the room blaring of music to translate directions to Bekzhod, I saw him quietly in the corner of the room. He came just at the end.

Something happened between him and Rosa when they greeted each other. I'm not sure what but her demeanor changed and I felt something uncomfortable. I'm not sure if she sensed his disapproval or if it was something in their eyes. She said she would drop me off. I said he actually brought his car (I lied, this guy is the king of cabs) but thanked her profusely for inviting me to come.

Me and Bekzhod stayed back after everyone left and cleared off the wine. The label was written in Russian but was a "Japanese" wine that tasted of cherry.

Anyhow, we walked back afterwards and on our way back we passed the hotel of the first flower shop I went to, Tashkent Palace. We heard music coming from the hotel and he said there was a party on the rooftop deck and said you want to see a real Uzbek wedding? Let's go.

This is such the type of thing I love to do. The plan was that we would play dumb foreigners, I would speak in English, and he would just say yes and no.

The crowd looked pretty uppity, well dressed, and it was too formal for us to walk in. Plus there were employees standing by the doors and there was only a group of 25-30 left dancing so it wasn't a large enough crowd for us to go in. It was fun regardless.

We walked through the streets of Tashkent and through a gorgeous park. He kept asking don't your feet hurt? Take off your shoes. I said no, because you will probably run away with them or something like that. He said you don't trust me, and I'm unreliable. I said why don't you take your shoes off then if it's really okay, I don't want to step on glass or hurt myself. He said how he has socks, blah blah. We passed by an Ecco shoe shop and he said let's go look at the shoes. There were sprinklers everywhere and he kept insisting we run through them. There was no freaking way I was going to run through sprinklers in my Catherine Malandrino chiffon dress. Even I know that shit wrinkles with water and I wasn't about to stress about finding the right dry cleaner in Tashkent. We saw a bald man put his head in the sprinkler. Bekzhod said see, even he's doing it. And screamed out to him, "fontain haroshi?" and some other stuff I couldn't understand.

Anyhow, it was a gorgeous night. The weather was perfect for a walk. After a while my feet really did kill enough for me to take off my shoes. It's something I would've probably done on my own (after long nights as soon as I'd get to my apt lobby I would take off my shoes and walk barefoot to the elevator), but I later felt like for some reason it was a test of trusting him.

We talked while we walked. We smoked a few cigarettes, talked some more. It was seriously one of the most romantic nights I've had in a long time. It was just perfect.

And I guess just as with everything else, certain things stay the same. There is always that person you always wonder what could've been if it was a different situation.

And just as with the grooms and brides I saw that night, I also realized even more that you didn't have to speak the same language or have had a long history to know if you connected with someone.

I'm not sure what he felt but we didn't talk to each other today. I don't know if we both realized we might be testing that line, if we were both embarassed from the night, or if it was b/c I blew up at Kozim in the morning (I'll save that for another entry, this is the wrong place to put it).

But I guess my time in Tashkent wouldn't be complete if I didn't have a small moment of love, even if it may be something just in my mind.

Weekend

Friday night my co-worker Malika and her mom were kind enough to take me to a dance performance to see some Uzbek dancing.

We went to a restaurant called "Bahor". The place itself was gorgeous in the grand, soviet way of many buildings and places here.

The show ended up being tailored for foreigners and tourists. Instead of local Uzbek dancers, we ended up getting plastic looking Russian girls wearing very little clothes that sparkled way too much to be local, traditional costumes who did tacky renditions of "dancing". It was terrible. More shocking than there, there was very little feeling to their movements or expression, void of any emotion, and all you could smell was sex.

I was revolted.

I realized this is why you avoid the touristy places for foreigners if you want to experience the real feeling of a culture.

And I was surprised I had gained enough of a sense of the local culture to discern the real from the canned. It felt terrible.

But dinner itself was wonderful as I filled an unknown craving and had western style lamb chops with mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables.

Saturday I met up with Jamshid, an almost colleague who I have been in touch with over the last year.

Despite mostly having chatted online and only spoken on the phone once, I could always tell he was such a gentleman and had the sweetest personality.

He was gracious enough to take me to the local mountains. On our way we stopped at the side of the road at an outdoor, no name restaurant run by a mother and her daughters. I tried this incredible yogurt soup with fresh herbs, corn and barley. I'm not a yogurt fan, but in the scorching heat this soup tasted incredibly cooling and fresh. We also had these samosa type things with potatoes and onions in it, and then some freshly made rasberry-esque fruit juice.

The place didn't have a refrigerator so instead, they poured cold water into a concrete square and stored their drinks there. Whenever a customer ordered a drink they would pull it out and serve it.

Nature at its finest.

We went through a hotel in the mountain where there was a pool with an in incredible backdrop of the lake. I saw more people than usual dressed in the local traditional Uzbek garb of skull caps and long tie-dyed type dresses. We walked to the lake and waded in knee-high. I told him I could seriously live there.

Outside in between the pool and the lake there's an outdoor area fenced in with bamboo. In the center there's a bar and some speakers. This was the 'discotech' at night.

On our way back I had a craving for Korean food. We went to a restaurant, "Sim Chon" with his friend. The restaurant had a dj booth and dance floor. I had trouble ordering as the menu was in Russian. The woman next to me suddenly spoke some Korean and helped me order some of the most amazing banchan dishes. I was stunned she could speak Korean. She said she had taken some classes at a Korean school in Tashkent. She was shocked I was from America. Hilariously, while I was eating she turned and took a picture of me. I was suddenly the very curiosity that I had found all these "go-ryo-in's" to be. Go-ryo-in is a term the Soviet Koreans call themselves, which is different from what Koreans from Korea call themselves, "han-guk saram", which is different from Koreans born in America are referred to, "(jae-mi) kyopos", which is different from what Koreans born in Japan are called, "jae-il kyopos". So even amongst Koreans spread out throughout the world, for some reason they've had to classify themsleves into different categories.

We exchanged numbers, her name turned out to be Elisa, and she told me about a Korean outdoor bazaar where they sell Korean food.

After dinner Jamshid brought me back to the hotel. The nicest thing about him was despite it being the first time we met, we spoke as though we had been friends forever. There was such a sincerity and connection despite having had such different lives and having grown up in different countries. What amazed me so much was how progressive his thinking is. I haven't even come across many men in America who were as thoughtful and liberal as he.

I came back and called my co-worker Bekzhod. We made plans to go see the World Cup game as Sweden was playing Spain and Russia was playing Greece. He had lived and gone to school in Sweden for 2 years, and Russia is the closest team Uzbekistan roots for. Hence, it was a very important night.

While waiting for him outside my hotel, another Uzbek-Korean woman suddenly asked me in Korean if I was Korean. We were so happy to have met each other and also exchanged numbers. This woman was named Rosa. You'll see the significance to this meeting later on.

We went to 3 bars before we found a decent place that would take us. It was an outdoor area with a huge tv, and I had surprisingly good Russian beer, though I forget what the name was. We had pistachios, cheese, and some other nuts and mixed with the exhilaration of watching a game, being outdoors during a summer night, and being so relaxed on a weekend, I had such a good time.

Sunday I decided to go to Oloy Bazaar near my hotel after my scary attempt at Chorsu bazaar the previous. I felt so proud to buy some fruit. After Malika's mom had given me apricots the last week I was craving more. I bought some apricots, plums, nectarines, and cherries, and ate some cake at a patisserie in the bazaar.

I came back to the hotel and felt restless. I remembered wanting to check out the Alisher Navoi theater for ballet. Despite the performance having started already, I quickly got into an overpriced cab and went.

The theater was gorgeous. Huge, grand, ornate with beautiful chandeleirs and ceilings, I was so glad I pushed myself to go alone. Ironically, the woman gave me the same ticket as another girl who was already in my seat. However, fate will have it that this was another Korean girl traveling solo, but this time from Korea. We were so happy to be able to communicate in a way that can only be appreciated when you've been solo in a foreign country for a while. She said she was going to check out a Korean restaurant that night which ironically I had been meaning to try, "Han Guk Kwan", or rather "zan guk khan" as is cryrillic-ized.

While my friends think I'm uber adventurous to come out here, I am nothing compared to another species of travellers: the backpackers.

This breed can wing it on the moment without a place to stay, face last minute police and visa issues with a calmness and coolness I could never fathom, and face any travel issue that comes their way with a bold confidence and true sense of free spiritedness.

I met her and 2 of her housemates from where she was staying, called the "guest house", which I gather is similar to a home for foreigners. One guy was from France and he had a year off which apparently is mandatory in France every 6 years. He decided to use this sabbatical to, *get this*, bike. He BIKED from France to here. I was amazed. He had already biked through Italy, Iran, Tajikistan, and yet that evening was his first night trying Korean food.

Another woman was from Japan and had majored in middle eastern and Indian history. She knew how to say mosquito repellant in Hindi, Farsi, Uzbek, and Russian. Yuri, the girl I met at the ballet theater, is about to go to Iran for a month and they began to advise her about mosquito repellent and the lack of atm/cash machines and hence the need to carry currency with her.