Dancing

So. As I'm finding no matter how far you go, there are certain things that stay the same.

Unfortunately, this also includes that one person in the office you have tension with that can ruin your day.

Yesterday, I was slightly annoyed at the end of the day. But to my luck, the office manager Malika had followed up on a request I made several days before: belly dance lessons.

I've taken these in NY and San Diego from time to time, and it was something I decided for myself that I would try to keep up here. It's a hobby that I can bring with me to many places around the world while continuing something I love.

It was held at a snazzy gym but the teacher was Russian, not Uzbek or Arabic. We immediately got scolded for not wearing the appropriate attire.

The teacher was very Russian. By this I mean she did not show much emotion, did not smile, was serious, authoritative, and precise about the dance. She was awesome. Despite this lack of external expressions, you could feel her warmth in other ways. The way she would look over or try to translate a couple words to make sure I understand. The way she would glance a little longer at the adorable 3 year old girl who kept rolling yoga balls around the room while we were dancing. But what was awesome was the lesson was conducted in Russian.

And using the same words I've been using to be able to communicate with the cab drivers, there they were: "Left, left, right, right, straight, straight!"

I loved learning something in Russian. While I love working with my co-workers and joking with them in English, I'm now finding the urge to try to pick up some more Russian and communicate.

After the lesson I went back to the hotel. But I had the craving to go out again. I think I'm slowly coming back to my old self.

I asked the hotel concierge if he could find me a Korean restaurant, I was craving Korean again. He directed me towards a place called Casanova. He said "haroshi restoran" - good restaurant. I said, okay. I asked a couple times if he was sure it was Korean, he kept saying da, da.

So there I went and there I arrived. I opened the door and to my horror and mortification, it was a nightclub/restaurant.

In the US there's no way I would be caught dead by myself in a nightclub.

But I burst out laughing when I saw this. My taxi driver had left, and it wasn't as though I could easily find another Korean restaurant. It turned out this place was owned by Koreans, hence why it was listed under that section at the hotel. Hell though, try everything once, and everything is a new experience. This was over the top though, even for me.

I was seated on the 2nd floor and watched the people dance downstairs. The waiter, who spoke English and who would later turn out to be my one kill joy of the evening, said he could switch me downstairs if I wanted to watch dancing, and that they had a dance performance at 10pm. I was so excited. I've been craving clubbing and some form of dance performance since I got here. I was so fortunate that an accident turned into a blessing in disguise I thought to myself.

Thank god for Lonely Planet's section on food cuisine. I tried translating some of the menu to myself to learn a few words. Downstairs my waiter was a very young looking Korean boy. I became so excited. I tried asking him what the name of the song playing was and whether he could write down the singer. The waiter from upstairs would keep rushing down every time I asked something and in his broken English try to explain everything to me.

This quickly put a damper on my mood as 1) I really wanted to practice my Russian 2) I was having a lot of fun figuring things out in my broken Russian and finding ways to connect with the locals and 3) every time he spoke in English to me I felt stupid and as though he was insulting my intelligence.

Of course he was trying to make sure I understood everything and was comfortable, and also wanted to practice his own Russian skills. But by this point I had gotten comfortable with my broken Russian, a little bit braver, and eager to continue to find my way around in this new language.

In any case, out came a huge carafe of cherry juice, a basket of bread large enough for 10 people, my blini with caviar, and my Korean "banchan" which was a root vegetable I hadn't had before, but very strong and pungent with vinegar and spices.

I was so hungry I ordered another cutlet with french fries, to which of course the waiter came rushing over again.

So onto the dance performance. About 6 very young looking girls came out in an athletic sweatsuit type piece and did a hip hop dance. They were so cute and I thought to myself, they still had the feel of being young girls, the cuteness, but not quite yet the womanly feeling.

The next number they came out in black suits, it was much more serious, and there was something very sexy about it.

Well, I was right about that part. When the song was winding down, they suddenly took their clothes off to reveal leather bondage type shorts and corsets with stitching. Hineys in the air and moves I couldn't even replicate if I tried, my mouth just dropped.

Next was a flamenco type number with glow in the dark nude/light green tights.

But the finales were beautiful. They had these gorgeous turquoise type belly dancing clothes, and with shifon waving in the air, they went around to the tables to get tips.

Pretty sure no one would approach me as I was a single girl sitting alone, and generally women feel more comfortable asking men for tips then women, I sat amused and watched.

One adorable girl though did have the guts to come up, and I smiled and laughed as I gave her 1,000 soum.

Staying out way past my ususal bedtime, I finally felt it time to go. Of course the waiter rushed over to give me the bill, then to tell me to please give him X amount, that the total was X amount.

I realized how being a foreigner can often bring you back down to the level of a baby in your eyes or in theirs.

I returned to my hotel still laughing and got the best night of sleep I'd had in a long time.

I found out this morning that the place I went to was not exactly a nightclub, but really a strip club. The girls apparently are underage and are not allowed into these place. I vaguely remembered a Korean guy leading them in and out. The first thought in my mind when I saw him was he reminded me of a pimp.

But go figure. I went from arabic dancing to a strip dancing show all in one day. It makes it that much more fun being in a foreign country. For some reason, this wouldn't have been as funny if I had been traveling with someone.

There is something so wonderful about traveling alone, without any type of safety net, and completely being in the moment.

Time

Being in a new place, my sense of time and distance is warped.

I can't measure yet how far something is, or how long it would take me to get somewhere.

But today I was running late - for a good reason though, Ellie called from NY! - and I refused to take the taksi in front of the hotel that wanted to charge me 3,000 soum, and I was too impatient to wait another 10 minutes for the taksi the hotel called.

So I walked to work and realized it was faster to walk here than all those days I've waited 10 minutes for a cab and then another 5 to get here.

On my way here, I saw birds.

I've never gone bird watching, but I've always loved birds. I've always loved the way they could fly, take off when they wanted, and just be free.

But what was interesting about the birds here is that they're different. In a way, it's like duh, of course they would be different.

I'm used to seeing pigeons in NY. Way too many of them.

But the ones here are beautiful, with different colors. And I realized one of the birds I saw is the same type of bird my aunt once raised. This is the aunt on my mom's side who I'm uncannily similar to in personality. She was once coming home and saw a baby bird that had been injured under a tree. Afraid it would get eaten by an animal, she brought it home and they raised it. It used to jump around the house with its broken wing and would eat out of their hands. When my uncle would go to work he'd say "bye gga-soon-ni (bird)" and she would reply, "gga, gga".

But today I saw a gga-soon-ni bird, and it made me feel comforted to see something familiar I had seen before.

Perfect weather

Last night I saw the most beautiful sky during my walk home with Bekzod. It was the most perfect blue, slight breeze, warmth, and amazement combined.

Some idiot has been calling my room and last night was no exception. I got woken up at 2am only to hear a male's voice saying sorry, wrong number. The frustrating thing is you don't even know who it is so you can't even say, are you insane??!

Today I took another taksi to work, this time it was one of the 2nd hand benz's I've seen in the country. I was surprised to see several Mercedes here, but my colleagues told me that there are some wealthy ubeks, and that also many are sold secondhand.

For lunch we went to a local Uighur place, yay! I was craving noodles so we drove out to this local place and got Lakhman, their local noodles. They were so delicious and tasted very similar to Korean noodles, only these were handmade on the spot. The guy would take the long tough and twirl it in his fingers and slap it against this hard wood slab, so while you're eating in the other room you'd occasionally here these "whack whacks".

The teas are incredible here, as are the yogurt sauces you can dip your naan into. The silk road just amazes me. You can sense and feel the similarities throughout the region. The yogurt sauces remind me both of Greek and Turkish food, while also sharing similarities to Russian food. But the main Uighur dishes also remind me of certain East asian cuisines. Lakhman is very similar in spices and constitution to Korean "yoo-gae-jang", only the noodles are thick and white. But both are spicy soups with meat, some vegetables, and noodles.

I asked what the name of the restaurant is and my colleagues said there's no name, it's simply just a local place they know of. One guy joked "national uighur restaurant of Uzbekistan".

Again, the jetlag is slowly setting in. I got an email this morning from NY related to some boy/love drama in NY. It took me a few hours to just let it go and leave it behind. Coincidentally, a friend from back home happened to email me about her love drama right now. I just felt so sick of it all though. At the end of the day you can't influence a person's decisions or tell them what's right or wrong. All you can do is just let them be and decide for yourself if you want to stick around or walk based on how they are and act. Just a bit of a sticky situation I left behind, but hopefully this trip will keep forcing me to accept and let go when it comes to love. That's all you can do sometimes.

You never know..

I woke up this morning feeling off. A bit crummy actually. From getting my period early to feeling jetlagged sleep deprived, the physical was starting to take its toll.

I came into the office to check on comments for the presentation. Bam. More info needed.

Another hurried frenzy to try to figure out what it is our boss wants, how to allocate the tasks, and how to get the info.

We went to Bukhara for lunch, a local place for local fare. It was my first day not going to the treasury for lunch, and a nice change of environment.

The tablecloths were made of the national dress apparently - a tie dyed splotchy type piece. Our lunch began with a tomato and onion salad, huge round pieces of naan, a sour cream sauce, and finally shyshlek.

Shyshlek is one of their main meat cuisines, basically meat on a skewer, but it was delicious. The place was such a local place that my co-workers had to speak to the waitresses in Uzbek.

A funny thing is in NY I'm always the slowest eater amongst my friends. They sometimes say it's cuz I talk a lot. But the thing is, I really don't talk a lot.

But here again, I was the last one eating. Some things never change regardless of where you go to I realized.

I noticed they were pretty quiet at lunch. Don't you guys talk when you eat I asked? Sherzod was telling me that in Uzbekistan people don't really talk about their feelings. I wondered if this was due to the Muslim culture, but Farkhad said that it is more likely from the soviet times. I asked how do you get to know each other then, don't the women talk?

He said oh yeah, Uzbek women talk too much and eat too much. I couldn't stop laughing. I knew I must've come to the right place when he said the women here eat too much.

A funny thing about crossing the roads. I've taken our NY crosswalks that no one really pays much attention to for granted. Here, although there are crosswalks, you don't really wait for them. You just go. Cars are coming and going, you may end up stuck in the middle of the street. But it's like playing chicken. I got stuck in the middle of the road watching cars going by me in opposite directions.

After lunch we came back to work on the presentation some more. The funny thing is in the US when I surf the net at work, it's usually stuff about the news, or whether Angelina Jolie is really pregnant and having twins or not.

Here though, I am constantly learning something new. For our project our boss asked we include some slides on private equity in the region, and capital flows from sovereign wealth funds.

I didn't know certain funds existed. I came across the EDRC - a European bank which invests globally in infrastructure. I learned that Morgan Stanley has also recently created an infrastructure fund. And there are numerous other specialized funds which focus in the region and with local partners.

I asked Mokhir about any confectioner type companies. He introduced me to Lakhat online, a local Kazak company, but we couldn't figure out whether it was publicly or privately owned.

And as I kept drifting on the net I started mentally wondering whether maybe I should look into doing private equity in frontier markets, whether pursuing the world bank, IMF, or IFC is a better option, whether I should try to look into a private equity internship instead or a banking one to give a better base and background.

It amazes me how being in a foreign country I am forced to learn so much more in a day than I normally would in my own comfort zone back home. Everything is a discovery. The clean sewage and water projects, the socially responsible investments in manufacturing whether for garments or wires. And how certain countries have been so fast to already move into this region. Did you know Japan has a small business enterprise with Uzbekistan already? And the EDRC. Is it not coincidental that the British have pretty much conquered every region at some point in time and that still reflects today? It's amazing how well the EDRC seems to be set up and how many projects they've been doing for the last 10 years in this region. I sent the internship info to myself in case I can set something up there for even a brief stint.

But it made me realize I have to probably keep improving my Russian if I want to do business here later. So much I'd like to do, but there's such a sense of frustration as I realize how much time it takes to hit the level I'd want to at something, and how things are a process now, no overnight quick fixes.

So here I am at work again, it's almost 8pm, with Bekzod in the office. We call each other torturer. But this same torturer also makes sure I get home safely, was kind enough to show me around Tashkent my first day here, and shows a courteousness, sincerity, and maturity as a man despite his young age.

I've never had so much fun at work though. Back in the day when Bradley and I first started, it was so new and fresh. He didn't have kids yet and our fund was on paper. I remember how we'd stay late at night working so hard to get things set up. I would take the 559am train and get home around 11, sometimes midnight. I had never worked so hard in my life, but I remember feeling such a sense of accomplishment, learning, and achievement. I felt so fulfilled.

Working here has brought back that re-invigoration and inspiration again. I'm sure at some point the excitement and newness will wear off. It always does... with a lot of things :) But for now, I'm enjoying the ride and holding onto this feeling. It's not every day that I have such a special feeling.

Korean ajushi's

What would this trip be without the Korean ajushi's.

They have been a big source of hilarity, random laughs, comfort, and familiarity all rolled into one.

There is a group of Korean men in my hotel who I see at breakfast. They range from probably young 30's to ajushi's - term used for older, Korean men, basically like your dad.

There is one who has cracked me up from day one.

Let me backtrack a bit. My hotel includes breakfast every morning. I go down to the coffee shop where I chose from an array of meats, cheese, fresh tomatoes, breads, honey, jams, and an assortment of hot foods - my favorite being the fried potatoes which I smatter with a local sourcream dill sauce.

And every morning I see groups of random foreigners eat together, and I take my place at my own table and eat 2-3 plates of food.

On one of my first days, there was a Korean ajushi with glasses and a stout constitution yelling/barking "mool, MOOL" to the waitress as though she had to know what he was talking about.

She stood with a blank expression staring at him while he kept impatiently yelling the same word for water over and over again.

Fortunately, that was one word I do know, so I told the server in Russian, to which she asked warm or cold, I asked him in Korean, to which he said I don't care, just mool, mool, and I laughed all the way back to the room.

This morning the same guy was there. Looking at me, he said in Korean, you're here a long time too.

I don't know if anyone else would find this so funny. What struck me was it was so apparent that he was the sort who spoke his mind and thoughts whenever he felt like it, as we could call it "mal mak-hae (speak however he pleases), his lack of trying to explain or connect his ideas in a foreign language through any gestures or pictures or smiles - he simply just expected everyone to understand what he was saying, whereas I have constantly been grateful for hand gestures, pictures, and smiles to get me by , and yet somehow this funny man made it by being able to eat and sleep with his tour group and lack of awareness or desire to make an effort towards better understanding what was going on around him or the local culture here.

But this idiosyncratic, hilarious creature has become more and more a comforting persona to me here. The minute I see him he just makes me laugh. One of those people who are funny without trying to be.

Farkhad and I agreed last night to come to the office by 8am to try to resurrect the deleted project I had worked on.

I made it here by 8am, and he rolled in at about 845. He said to me, I'm sorry, I was watching soccer last night until 3am.

I burst out laughing, thinking to myself how everyone is the same around the world. If it isn't re-runs of sex in the city, a late night game, or what else, we all sometimes put our responsibilities secondary to indulge in our favorite entertainments.

Just as expected the presentation was gone, but miraculously after a day off from looking at it, the corrections went quickly and we gathered the team around my desk to run through it.

I am slowly beginning to get to know their personalities. Mokhir is what I call the secret genius. He claims he doesn't, but I think he has a slight photographic memory, and he computes numbers in his head. Very young and innocent looking, he doesn't say much, but he always makes me laugh.

Sherzod is the funny guy who has the only bloomberg station here. He's the same guy who went out and got me a burger, fries, and an oversized bottle of Sprite on Saturday.

Timur seems very mature, and also very quiet.

Bekzhod is the slight trouble maker. What I mean by that is just when we are reaching consensus he has the opposite opinion or argues the other case. While they all gathered around my desk and we discussed the slides I couldn't stop laughing. I said, there will never be peace when Bekzhod is here.

In less than a week they are already becoming so precious to me. It's amazing how despite language barriers and knowing nothing about them from before, I am slowly beginning to get a sense and feel of their different personalities. They are all so lovely already to me, and I already know how much I will miss them when I leave.

Btw, I have been making slow, tiny victories and improvements. This morning my taxi driver began taking me to the other business center. I was able to stop him and give him instructions to the proper building. My goal is to get to the point where I can get into a taxi and they don't sense I'm a foreigner, or I can bargain down to that rate. When Alexey, the security guard downstairs, put me in a taxi, I only had to pay 500 soum. When I go on my own or when the hotel calls one for me, I pay the foreigners premium of 2000 soum. Yesterday when I got lost at one of the metro stations, a driver said he would take me to my hotel for 7,000 soum. I may not know much, but I knew enough to know this was such a rip off. And despite being vulnerable as a foreigner here and not having a clue as to where to go, I couldn't stand to get that ripped off. So my pride said no despite him being the only driver in the area and that's what lead me to my botched metro ride. Despite being in no position to make demands, I refused to compromise my pride and get that ripped off.

But still. This is what is making it all so fun and interesting. While pointing and uttering my highly unsophisticated words of no, 2, no no, 1, no no... I have been bargaining and arguing my way with cab drivers.

When I recounted my whole story to Farkhad this morning though, he said I had ended up in the old part of Uzbekistan, and that I should really not do that again. That I should've called one of them for help, and that they do not recommend foreigners going to Chorsu bazaar, and that a lot of people in that area are highly unaccustomed to foreigners.

Sometimes not knowing is the saving grace of fearlessness.

Lost and Found

Wow, what a long day.

So I went on the tour with Eremod (the guide Malika hired for me) and he showed me around Tashkent. We saw an arts theater which amazingly was built by the Japanese when they were here during 1945-1950 as prisoners of war, along with some other buildings nearby. He told me after they were let go most of them returned to Japan after 10 years or so.

We also saw a huge park, some famous monuments (such as the one which was built after a large earthquake, I'm presuming the one in 1966), and a statue which used to have Lenin on it but is now replaced by a globe to symbolize peace.

We also went through an upper middle class neighborhood, and a beautiful university I believe of mosques. There I got to see the beautiful blue domes which are more characteristic of Samarkand.

The ornate muslum architecture throughout Tashkent is amazing. I also wanted to see some places to buy souveniers, so we went to a couple places where the people make handcrafted boxes, wood carvings, doors, and paintings. Oddly though, I didn't end up buying anything as I couldn't make up my mind. I want to get some paintings to remember Uzbekistan by. I was thinking of getting something that is very silk road-esque for my parents, and I'd like a few muslim pieces for myself.

It was so hot during the day though that I could barely make it through the tour. I asked if we could please turn on the a/c in the car, and Emerod told me he would ask since some of the cars don't have a/c. Fortunately for us, ours did.

After the tour I came back to the hotel and decided to rest. My card key didn't work, and it turns out it's due to being demagnetized by my cell phone. After switching it I came to the room and read up some more on the region and lounged around in bed. I kept debating whether to call Galina, Tatiana's niece. Thing is though, still a bit sick and extremely tired, I thought it would be too draining to meet up with a stranger and have to sit and focus. I wanted to call her when I was in better condition to be jovial and outgoing. I was about to drift off into sleep, but decided to fight it. Losing a day to laziness here was a day of experiences I could never get back again later. It wasn't like being lazy in NY or the US. I forced myself to think of something to do and get out of bed.

So I went to Tashu bazaar (or was it Toshku or Kashku). Actually, it's Chorsu. I had been hoping to see some more of the Korean vegetable/kim chi type stands, but this one seemed a lot more local. They sold clothes in one section which was reminiscent of the open air market I went to in Florence. As I climbed the stairs towards the vegetable/fruits section a babushka's plastic bag was blowing away from her. Thinking I was doing a kind thing I stepped on it to prevent it from blowing away further. I kind of dragged it over with my feet as I didn't want to touch it being my body is already filled with bacteria, I didn't want any more. She ended up yelling at me and showed me that I dirtied the bag. I didn't know what to do or say except just slightly bowed and said sorry in English and walked away.

I went into the market though this time, while I found some of the prepared vegetable stands I didn't see any Koreans. It seemed that this bazaar was mostly filled with Turks and middle easterners. There is this one spice here that I've loved so far - it smells and tastes like a very strong pungent dill. But for some reason in the market the scent began to overwhelm me. I browsed through rows of herbs, vegetables, and fruits, and then went into a building and this one seemed to have stands mostly of rice and grains.

Earlier in the day I decided I was craving Korean food and that I would finally go eat at a restaurant. I got some rough directions of a place at the hotel before I left. As I was leaving the bazaar to look for a taxi, a man approached me and asked where I was going. I said a Korean restaurant. He said where. I said somewhere near. We argued over how much he would charge me. I had been hoping to blend in on this trip by saying very few words but it's turned out to be quite obvious that I'm a foreigner. For some reason when the taxi drivers ask me if I'm from Korea, that feels like the safer answer to give than to say I'm from the America. So as of today I've learned to just say that da, I am from se-wool.

I began to get a little worried as I got into his car. I realized there was no sign that said "taxi" and this was one of those gypsy taxi cars the guide books had warned us of. To make matters worse he went into an underground tunnel and onto what looked like a freeway-equivalent, but a road I hadn't travelled before. Paranoid thoughts briefly raced my mind - what if he was taking me somewhere I had no idea of and something happened to me? I looked around and calmed myself down by realizing the locks were manual and it was still broad daylight. Worst case scenario I would run out of the car.

After what I think was a conversation asking me which Korean restaurant, what street, where was it, to which all I could answer was "ya ne znayo" (I don't know) I quickly looked up a word in my phrasebook and said "lyuboi" - take me to any (Korean restaurant). I hope my readers are beginning to get a sense of how rudimentary and child-like my Russian is, but how astonishingly I have been able to get by this way.

Serendipity will have it that he took me to one that I hadn't seen before despite having asked my driver on my tour earlier in the day to show me the main ones. More luck will have it that it looked closed, to which I told my driver "net aktrit" - not open - to which he argued da aktrit, da da. I got out of the car.

The place was called "chun-ga-wee" and when I entered, I tried speaking to the waitress by telling her I would be eating alone. From behind a lovely young Korean woman poked her head out and told me in Korean to sit down. I couldn't believe it - a local ethnic Korean woman who could speak Korean.

Excited to finally eat Korean food, but saddened to see that just as the guidebook mentioned there was "dog meat soup" (btw, I have never eaten this before nor seen it specifically on a menu despite having gone to Korea almost every summer since birth). In any case, I excitedly looked through the menu and was surprised by how expensive certain dishes were. The jungols (large portioned stews meant to be shared) were 35,000 soum - somewhat equivalent to about $35.

When I arrived at the restaurant, they brought me a glass of water. I asked the waitress if she had a bottle instead. She said no. I asked for a bottle of coke then, but they didn't have that either unless I wanted a really huge bottle for myself. I finally settled on a glass of coke with no ice, but I was dying of thirst after being outdoors in the sun for so long.

I decided to order one of my favorite Korean dishes - dooboo kimchi - stir fried kimchi with pork and tofu.

The young Korean girl came over and we began to talk. I asked how her Korean was so good. She told me she had studied it at the University here, and I found out she was a 3rd generation Korean-uzbek. She corrected me several times as I called her a "hanguk saram" - Korean person. She said they call themselves Koryo-ins, and that hanguk saram's are from Korea. She was so fascinating that as the banchan (appetizer dishes) came out I didn't bother eating and kept talking to her. She finally told me to eat first and that we'd talk later.

The banchan was amazing. The kimchi was definitely saltier than what I was used to, but so flavorful nonethelss. The hobak (green squash?) appetizers were so tasty, as were the potatoes, and I briefly remembered how all the food is organic as everything is grown locally.

When I was talking to her I found out that her grandparents were from North Korea, and that many have lost ties to their relatives as names were changed when the ancestors first came to Russia. The last name "Chun" or "Jun" became "Jjan" due to the Russian translation. So despite her grandfather having a son somewhere in Korea, it was near impossible to track him down as they no longer knew the original names of their relatives.

I wanted to bring her into my family and give her my relatives and tell her to come join my family. But I halted when I thought of certain cousins I wouldn't want to subject her to.

In any case, as I was talking to her I thought of my own family. On my mother's side we're from the North. But when I say North, I mean the way tippy tippy top part of North Korea, the part that kisses Russia. I wondered whether this girl and I were related, as we have a couple relatives who didn't make it to South Korea and their seeds could very well be somewhere in Uzbekistan for all I knew.

She told me there was a large Korean population and that many lived in a certain neighborhood (I don't remember the name) and that there was a strong Korean community. I couldn't believe it though when she told me how generation after generation the very strong belief that koryo-in's must marry koryo-in's was passed down, and how her own husband was also a koryo-in.

What is it about this strong resolve in Koreans, so strong that even somewhere as far and remote in Uzbekistan the same mentality and beliefs were still being carried out? Is the insistence and desire to stay within the Korean bloodlines something that is so deeply a part of our blood? Was it cultural? Or just the natural mentality?

As we swapped funny stories, she told me I was very "dae-dan-hae" to be going around alone like this on my own here. It's funny though. I don't know if it's being dae-dan-hae or a little crazy, but I realized it was pretty brave and gutsy to be doing so.

Fascinated and flabbergasted, I proceeded to eat my meal. Embarassingly, I could barely make a dent in it and felt so bad to leave behind almost a full plate.

I didn't know my phone number but wanted to stay in touch. She called her phone to help me find out my phone number, and gave me her own number and told me to call if I need anything at all. I felt so touched and warmed. Just as with Luba and Tatiana, the 2 Uzbek women in NY I befriended at the Uzbek consulate in NY, there was this natural "jung" that could come only between Korean women. I felt this again, this time more pronounced as I really am so alone and vulnerable here in Uzbekistan. I found out this lovely young woman's name was Sveta - short for Svetlana. My first Korean friend in Tashkent.

She told me of a large Korean supermarket where many Koreans went. Determined to find it, I followed her directions to take the number 3 bus and tell the driver to let me off at a certain place.

Problem was, I forgot where this was. Not only that, with patience I never would've had in NY, I watched as buses 33, 38, 57, 58 passed by over and over, but no sign of number 3.

After questioning whether my dress was too short given how many odd glances I kept getting from boys to older men, and holding myself back from asking a local babushka with a headscarf this question (I did not want to draw any more attention than necessary to myself as a foreigner), the number 3 bus finally came.

Long story short, the woman on the bus was so helpful and dear and instructed me where to get off when I told her large Korean supermarket. She yelled out on the bus if anyone knew where it was and I followed the pointing fingers.

Problem was, I couldn't find this place. After spotting some women carrying large packages of bottled water and asking them if the supermarkazi was across the street that way, I found a random small place that said "Korodni market" and was wondering if they confused my request with this. It was next to a Chinese restaurant.

But again, problem was I had no idea where this was and I couldn't find a taxi in sight. I decided to keep trying the public transportation system and entered the nearest metro.

Apparently you are not allowed to take pictures in the metro, and the guidebooks warned that at certain stations security was very heavy. Policemen are known to harass foreigners about seeing their passports, possibly searching them, and trying to get a monetary bribe or just make your life hell temporarily.

I don't know which way I took the metro but I got even more lost. I got off at the next stop, followed the few people who were around the dark, underground stop and fortunately found my way out. Deciding to not try my luck any more with gypsy cabs or random transportation, and being exhausted from getting lost, I asked a very young couple who looked like they were in high school at the oldest, if they knew which direction the hotel was. They walked me to a gypsy cab, where the young guy spoke to the driver and PAID for my cab fare to take me there. I couldn't believe it. I insisted on paying for it and kept saying nyet nyet, but he insisted.

I was so warmed and touched by this hospitality and random gesture of kindness. To be honest I never would've done such a thing for a random stranger in NY, and I can't think of anyone who would've done such a thing for me. This action was completely selfless and from the heart. I would never be crossing paths with this young man again, and there was nothing in return he could be getting from me either.

Unfortunately, I had no time to get his information to try to return the hospitality. With slight tears in my eyes and a very big heartfelt thank you, I kept waving to them from the car feeling so betroddened that I couldn't repay their kindness back in any way.

I have a bunch of random bottles of water I've bought during my time here, but at this point, I was so weary from this long day. All I wanted was water. But cold water.

I bought another bottle, curiously entered the restaurant where there was loud music playing to see what it was. There were a bunch more ethnic Koreans, and it looked to be like a wedding, but the bride looked Russian. Secretly hoping maybe some of the Koreans would see me and warmly invite me in, I stood at the door, but instead got some disapproving glances from the Russian ladies who saw me.

Finally, I went up to my room and ran a nice, clean bath. I wanted nothing more than to soak my itchy, dirty legs and just sit and rest.

I feel like this day has been the equivalent to a week. As I write this I still can't believe so much happened today. This is my 5th full day here in Uzbekistan, but today was a break through in so many ways. I finally got a bit of courage to venture out on my own, and it was the first day I created in my own way and didn't have the structure or obligation of work.

But I am so exhausted now. I'm not sure if I zapped my own brainpower by having to constantly focus on my surroundings, figure out how to get from one lost point to another lost point, or what. But I have never been so happy to be back at the hotel. I collapsed on the bed and just want to lay here forever. I hope I fall into a deep sleep tonight. This certainly feels like it was a dream.

Drat, Splat!

I knew it would happen. I was waiting for it to happen.

But I didn't expect it to happen so soon.

So after working until 9pm on Fri night, I met with members of our team Sat morning at 1030am to work on our presentation.

Fred, the other managing partner who is from Australia, came in and gave some "suggestions" on the presentation. He again mentioned how much he found the "new" and "next" frontier terms to be very effective. In corporate speak, this means - this is to go into the presentation.

I subtly asked my team what the management was like at the company by asking what happened when Fred and Alisher dissented on something. They said Fred was diplomatic enough that there usually wasn't any dissent, aka Fred knew the boundaries and there was no question who was boss if he wanted to keep his career safe. What about when Fred and the team disagreed I asked. One Fred trumped all the colleagues put together.

I quickly learned my place.

A bit nervous from jetlag, lack of sleep, and my new environment, I felt a bit sensitive that day. The night before after hearing Fred had gotten sick from a Turkish restaurant, despite being here for 4 years, I packed some meds "just in case". And with Fred scrutinizing my presentation that day and seeming a bit un-enthused, though this could've been from his being under the weather, I felt a bit shaky. I again reminded myself I had to rise above these feelings. I viewed his comments as a way to make the presentation better, but also that this type of dynamics and politics would be a common occurrence as I went up in my career.

I've been eating breakfast at the hotel every day despite not really being a breakfast person by nature. That day at the office, after the team had returned from lunch, I got hungry and asked if I could get delivery, a usual occurrence in NY.

In order to request delivery from the Turkish restaurant, I would've had to order 20,000 soum's worth of food. Instead, one of the colleagues said he could go get me a hamburger after I said I was craving french fries.

Excited, I took a picture of this burger and fries. I cleverly also requested to have the lettuce and tomato left out to be cautious about what I ate.

To my delight and surprise, at about this time my friend Ellie called. It was so good to hear her voice, and it was so touching to have her call me so many miles away. And in just the fashion that only women when they are close can do, I suddenly ran to the bathroom with her on the phone and there it happened: the big TD.

I downed my meds while trying to maintain my composure to my team despite feeling itchy, a bit run down, and craving nothing better than a nap or massage, and returned to working on my presenatation.

After 9 hours of working on the presenatation and becoming excited as I thought of better ways to break down the presentation, I made a huge, fatal mistake.

I accidentally closed the draft I had been working on without saving the file.

I called Farkhad, our office tech guy, and together on the phone we scoured my computer for a temporary back up file.

Nada.

*Sigh*. This reminded me of the several times I had worked on major pieces and the same thing happened. That huge 15-20 page term paper during finals period at Brown where my paper got wiped out not once, but twice despite my other exams I had to study for by the next day. The time at CREF when I was working on a pitch and the enormous amounts of hours and work put into it also disappeared in a matter of seconds.

And now this.

There was nothing I could do until the next day when Farkhad would try to come to the office to find the file.

Complicating the matter I did not yet have my magnetic card to be able to enter and leave the office as pleased.

I returned to the hotel and did what I knew best to unwind from a long, stressful day: I called the salon and asked if they had room for a massage.

Fortunately, this one thing did come my way. I received a very light yet soothing 1 hour massage from Olya, after which I went back to my room without having showered for 2 days and crashed into my bed.

Sunday morning and I have finally showered and am slowly getting ready to meet Gil, my tour guide in the lobby by 11am. I have already had breakfast, showered, and thrown up. But getting sick is a small price to pay to be here. Unfortunately, the meds have been working too well, and I am hoping that they will wear off so I can clear this out of my system.

Nonetheless, I can't wait for this to pass. I'm hoping the sooner the better, and that things have to get worse before getting better. Hopefully after this bout of sickness my immune system will have built a better tolerance for the rest of this trip.

And I quickly reminisced back to the time in Ecuador where I fell so sick and out of frustration and helplessness I cried and called home. I can't help but feeling grateful that years later I'm a stronger person and better equipped to deal with and manage these types of things.

Looking forward to my tour. I will bring my meds just in case.