Wanderlust Heaven!

Samarkand proved to be more of a normal city than I had imagined.  Its claim to fame is that it was Tamerlane’s capital, and the home of several renowned monuments like the Registan, but it’s also Uzbekistan’s second-largest city, with about half a million people.  It’s not an officially-designated ‘museum city’…years ago the Soviets chose 3 cities for this category – Suzdal (near Moscow, in the Golden Ring), Khiva (where I am right now), and another I can’t remember – maybe Merv in Turkenistan.  Those places were essentially frozen in time, deliberately – but Samarkand, and Bukhara, have developed and are full of color and life today.

My first night in Samarkand, I went out for dinner and found a decent enough place called Alt Stadt.  There used to be a lot of Germans (mostly Mennonites, I think) in this part of the FSU, Stalin sent ‘em here to be far away from the WW2 front.  A surprising number of Uzbeki citizens speak German.  He also sent thousands of ethnic Koreans here – and today you’ll find them making bibimbap in Tashkent, speaking Russian to each other.  Very weird.  Apparently Stalin, in his infinite wisdom, sent the Koreans here to get them away from the eastern theater, where war with Japan was looming.  He didn’t seem to know that Koreans and Japanese hate each other, and that the likelihood of Koreans spying for Japan was next to zero.  You run across so many of these sorts of stories in this part of the world…

After dinner I went over to a place I’d spied earlier in the day, Café Blues.  When I walked in, around 10 p.m., ‘Babe I’m Gonna Leave You’ by Led Zep was playing and I knew I’d like this place.  The barmaids were two Russians, Svetlana and Oxana.  Svetlana spoke solid English and I told her about the time I was walking up to Sacre Coeur in Paris and Robert Plant was descending, his arm around some goddess.  Plant’s famed mane was flowing behind him, in the wind, and it seemed like something out of a Zeppelin song about Valhalla…

Svetlana is a huge Zeppelin fan, and we bonded quickly.  Just about music, mind you…

The bar was very relaxed, and kept playing good music – Hendrix, CCR, and so on.  Reminded me of Mac Bar in Hiroshima – a place to visit at around 2 a.m., when other bars let out.  Mac’s owner/operator has a wall full of CDs and he loves to take requests, even from gaijin…he played ‘Terrapin Station’ by the Grateful Dead for me during my last visit there and I think we were the only people there who knew that song.  I should make a promise to myself to take my brother-in-law Dave, the human iPod, on a worldwide music bar tour one day – consider the bar list under construction and the promise filed.

One rough moment that night – I still had Delhi Belly from my fruit blowout in Tashkent, and the bar had no t.p.  I grabbed a couple napkins from a table before making my deposit…but still had to resort to water and hand, something I hadn’t had to do since visiting a Tibetan monastery near Dharamsala in ’92.  Friend Jan and I were heading back up to McLeod Ganj, I was stricken, and had to make use of nearby river water for my hygiene.  Not as bad as it sounds, but I still prefer conventional means.

Friendly people in the bar – I bought a big bar of chocolate and shared it with everyone in there, and a local guy turned around and shouted me a drink in return.  A trade I’m happy to take anytime.  Life has been colorful lately…

Next day I did my serious sight-seeing tour.  Had breakfast at Antica (my guesthouse) with some Germans and French folks – Antica was full, despite this being the heart of summer and officially ‘low season.’  That made me think – Uzbekistan must get pretty stretched when it’s high season, there aren’t that many hotels, trains, restaurants, and you’d really need to be on top of bookings to get what you want.  I think coming right now, despite the heat, makes decent sense – perhaps two weeks earlier would be even better, because August is Euro holiday month and that probably trumps Uzbeki summer heat.  July might be a smart time to visit – not sure how the crowds are in ‘winter,’ when the weather is apparently superb.  Anyway, my point is that this place wouldn’t be much fun if you were bumping up against busloads of Japanese and Europeans…

Went to see the famed Registan, a set of three Muslim madrassahs started by Ulugbek, grandson of Tamerlane, and finished by later rulers.  Ulugbek’s madrasseh, finished around 1470 or so, is the first and still the best-preserved – the other two have required more upkeep and still don’t look as good.  You’ve doubtless seen pics of the Registan, it’s Central Asia’s calling card, but here it is anyway:

Paid a guard cop a few bucks and went up a minaret for a wider view:

Despite all the hype, the Registan holds up – I found it almost breath-taking.  These Muslim structures are hard to beat – the Registan, to me, is much more impressive than Notre Dame or any of the churches in Europe, for example.  I do have a taste for the exotic, sure…

I’m no architect, but it’s not hard to see similarities and relationships between Muslim buildings in Central Asia and those to the south, in and around Delhi.  The Jama Masjid (mosque) in Delhi looks a fair amount like the mosques here in Samarkand, including my next stop, Bibi Khanym mosque.  I’m sure one of the tour operators is running a package with stops in India and Central Asia to see the great Muslim mosques, madrassahs and forts – if not, they should get on that. 

In fact, Uzbekistan might be a good ‘testing ground’ for those interested in seeing India, but aren’t sure they can handle the heat/crowds/poverty/filth/chaos.  Uzbekistan also has brilliant sites – not as many as does India (nowhere does) – and a few of the downsides, including brittle infrastructure.  If you find Uzbekistan hard to take, don’t go to India.  But I am damning the former a bit here – Uzbekistan is actually pretty user-friendly for tourists – not particularly dirty, not crowded, very few touts/pushy vendors, etc.  So perhaps it’s not that great of a ‘screen’ for potential India tourists, after all…

Bibi Khanym mosque was impressive, as well.  Here it is:

Went across the street to the mausoleum of Bibi Khanym, who was a Chinese wife of Tamerlane’s.  Snuck into the basement/tomb area with the help of another tourist who had found a way in.  Didn’t stay for long – not much to see down there.

Wandered around Siob Bazaar for a while.  Bought some pastries for lunch – wasn’t that hungry, the heat was oppressive (probably nearly 50 Celsius in the direct sun, 40 or so in the shade) and that tends to stunt my appetite.  Which was good, given that I had lots more to see and do that day.  Stayed far away from the fruit – by now I had given up on immodium and grapefruit seed extract for self-medication, and had put myself on ciprofloxacin for a few days – that was starting to pay off.  Not something you want to do that often – I’ve met travelers who use that as first option, not last resort, and I think that’s crazy, you want to give your body a couple days to try to fight off the bacteria first, and if that doesn’t work, well alright, move on to meds.  I think this is the 2^nd time in two+ years of traveling that I’ve had to use antibiotics, and that’s not too bad.

Walked up to Hazrat Mosque, on a small hill just to the northeast of the city, en route to the ancient site of Afrosiab – ‘ancient Samarkand.’  They wanted 3800 sum to enter – about US$3.  Not that much, but the inflation here is sick – since my guidebook came out, perhaps 2 years ago, entrance fees have doubled/tripled, and I was already getting sick of dishing out relatively large amounts (by local standards, anyway).  I made to walk out of the mosque, they came down to 1500 and that was more like it.  Had a cup of tea and some bread with the caretaker…very friendly and curious.  Met a handyman there who asked me my name – I told him, and got his, Ibrahim.  Then we played the ‘Michael Jackson?  No, Michael Jordan’ game – thank god for those two other Michaels, otherwise I’d be doomed to utter obscurity.

Walked towards the Afrosiob area, where there are ongoing excavations (probably only in cooler temps – didn’t see anyone digging that day).  Randomly came upon a large Jewish cemetery, not mentioned in my book. 

The book did show, on the map, an ‘old Jewish quarter’, and in the Bukhara section had a bit on the Jewish population there…but I was still struck, minutes after hanging out in a mosque, by this place.  Of course, the fellow tending the place was a Muslim, we salam’ed each other (in a Jewish cemetery – I have a lot to answer for next Yom Kippur), then I spent a half-hour walking around, taking pics.  Won’t show any here – it’s probably poor taste to post photos of specific tombs (I don’t think I’d like it if some random blogger did that with my relatives), but I will say that the names and faces (often shown on the tombstone – common in the FSU) were fascinating and didn’t much resemble those you’d see in, say, Boston.  We Jews got around and adapated to local customs…and as I’ve written before, usually it worked out.  Muslims keep an eye on Jewish synagogues in places like Rangoon and Calcutta, there’s no rancor, and I find it sad that the Jews of Uzbekistan, India, and other lands are now mostly in Israel.  I prefer a world that’s shaken (or stirred), not straight up.

Got to the Afrosiob area, the first place to visit was the local museum, which was deserted.  No one came over to get the fee from me till I was almost out the door.  Decent exhibits, Afrosiob is thousands of years old and has 11 layers of civilization.  Which is 11 more than Detroit.  And there were some English captions, so I had a small clue about what I was looking at.

Next stop, more interesting:  the tomb of the Old Testament prophet Daniel.  Apparently Tamerlane raided Susa, Persia in the 14^th century and brought Dan’s body here – although the Susans still claim to have it too.  As I entered the complex, I met a few locals there – including an Uzbek who had lived in Forest Hills, Queens, and who was sporting a nice iPhone.  What would Daniel think of that?

I don’t recall specifically what Daniel said or did – something to do with lions, methinks.  Or maybe he turned Cheeze Whiz into pizza margherita, I don’t know.  His tomb is beside the River Siob, and is quite plain – just a few old markings.  What is unusual is that it’s incredibly long – they say his body, even in death, grows a couple centimeters a year, and they’ve made a coffin/tomb that’s the length of an entire rectangular room – here it is:

Who knew old Daniel was buried (apparently) in Samarkand?

Walked on in the heat.  My kerchief was soaked and I wrung it out a few times – for some reason, I found that very satisfying.  Got to my final Afrosiob stop, Ulugbek’s Observatory.  Ulugbek (who also built the first Registan madrassah, see above) was not a man for all seasons – he was bookish, worldly, and a scientist, in an era of tyrants and murderers.  He was eventually beheaded by his own son, who took over, but was soon bumped off too.  The Observatory was worth the visit – good little museum with details about Ulugbek, and the actual observatory itself, which features some sort of chute like you’d find in a mine – not sure how it worked, had something to do with water reflecting moonlight.  I guess Ulugbek was smarter than I am.

The Observatory’s manager was interested in talking to me, but as he couldn’t speak English he enlisted his cute assistant – who I was interested in talking to.  They don’t get many Americans out here, and he asked me about 50 questions before I succeeded in escaping. 

I walked back towards town, with just one more sight on my hit list:  Shah-i-Zindar, the Hall of Kings.  Is this starting to sound like Lord of the Rings?  Central Asia is sort of Middle Earth…

This place is a corridor with mausoleums on either side, the first was built for Mohammed’s cousin and companion, and others went up over the centuries.  Impressive place – although it’s apparently been over-restored by the government, an accusation also leveled against other sites around Uzbekistan.  In any case, it’s quite a sight.

Random thoughts and observations, after a long-day of sight-seeing:

-I still can’t believe the Celtics are NBA champs.  Pinch me twice.

-Read an Internet newsclip title:  ‘Cheech and Chong Reunite as Feud Goes Up in Smoke’.  Finally.

-Oxana at Café Blues looks a lot like my old friend Sheila O’Brien from NYC.  A Russian version of an Irish-American.

I took a long nap after running around all day in the heat.  When I told Aziza, the owner of Antica Guesthouse, what I’d done that day, she was amazed at the ground I’d covered.  Of course, the locals don’t do much of anything, to their credit – sit around drinking tea, playing chess or checkers, covering up if they must go out…

I mentioned to Aziza that I’m Jewish, and she told me a bit about the Jewish community in Samarkand, most of which is now gone.  There is a small synagogue remaining, which I didn’t get to.  But she knows well the old cemetery and some of the folks in there…

Aziza herself has some Jewish mannerisms and even her speech reminds me of some Jews I know.  Perhaps it’s more ‘old world’ than ‘Jewish,’ not sure, but she had Jewish grandmother written all over her.

Back to Café Blues that night.  The manager fellow is a huge Ritchie Blackmore addict and insisted on playing a video of Deep Purple in concert in 2004 or thereabouts…a bunch of geezers still cranking out ancient heavy metal hits.  Svetlana rescued me by putting up something else.  Deep Purple is OK, but I generally don’t feel like 2 hours of it…

Next day did my blog update (last week’s – I’m a few days behind).  Had lunch at a tourist trap chaikhana (tea house) across the street from the Registan.  It’s a trap because of the primo location, but the bill still came to only US$5.  Not painful.  And the national dishes are pretty good – plov (a rice pilaf dish), lagman (noodle soup), bread and Sarbast beer.  Sarbast is good stuff – perfect on hot days.  And the local breads are something – Frisbee-shaped, and unique to different regions.  Samarkand has fluffy Frisbee bread, Bukhara has flatter, but still puffy, bread, and Khiva/Khorezm has flattish bread that could probably take a bullet.  Uzbeks know and argue about these different breads all the time – me, I prefer the Bukhara stuff.

Posting the blog proved easy enough.  The first internet café I visited was heinously slow, but the second was solid and it didn’t take long.  No government firewall or blocked (English language) sites.  So I should be able to post more or less on time here, allowing for some torture with slow connections.

Had dinner that night at Antica, they prepared a feast that was much better than any of the restaurants I’d visited.  The hit was peppers stuffed with rice and meat – the peppers were juicy and plump, and the rice and meat were the perfect counterpoint.  They do have great fruits and vegetables in this country…

Didn’t feel like going out that night – writing the blog and eating so much at dinner made me groggy, so kicked back and worked my recent Lord of the Rings skein by watching ‘The Two Towers’ DVD.  I carry around, with my other DVDs, all 3 of the LOTR discs, but haven’t watched them in memory.  Thoroughly enjoyed the 3 hours of mayhem and adventure – and was pretty sure a former client of mine is closely related to Grima Wormtongue, the facial and optical resemblance (really) is astounding (alright, Dick Cheney is not actually Wormtongue). 

Next morning, noticed that there were a couple Mongol Rally cars parked at Antica.  These guys set off from London, heading to Ulaan Bataar, where I’d seen a bunch of their cars at Dave’s Pub, the unofficial meeting place for the drivers.  They choose their own overland routes, and some/many go through Uzbekistan.  These guys were Italians, and had been going for 2 or so weeks.  Pretty cool.  Might ask old buddy Bryan, who knows engines, if he’d be interested in doing this rally sometime…

Went out to see a more few sights.  Walked by the main intersection in town – huge crowd was gathered on the sidewalk.  They were looking at a car that had been in an accident and was now resting on its side – not sure I’ve ever seen a car in that position, it reminded me of a Japanese ship in the waters off Coron that had gone down in the war:

They do have some spectacular accidents out here, people drive like maniacs.  I’ll never complain about Boston drivers again…

Went on to the State History Museum – great collection of ‘Samarkand, Then and Now’ photos.  I love those types of exhibits, it’s fascinating to see what a place looked like – especially the ordinary buildings and street scenes – 100 years ago.  The rest of the exhibits were OK – national costumes, art, etc.

Walked around the Old Jewish Quarter for a while – not many Jews there these days, but the place feels timeless and the street scenes are classic:

Didn’t last that long – it was again incredibly hot, probably 50 in the sun.  Checked emails at ‘Batman Internet Café,’ saw this headline:  ‘Canada Bus Passenger Beheads Seatmate.’  I always knew Canada wasn’t as benign as its rep…do you think it’s because they aren’t allowed to carry their own firearms???

Went to Café Blues for lunch.  Thought they had wireless – noonan.  Anyway, the food was OK and a couple beers prepared for a long afternoon siesta.  Tried to buy a candybar en route to Antica, but the heat was such that no one was selling them – they would have melted.  But it’s funny – they have empty wrappers at the cash point, which threw me off.  I guess they keep them in a freezer somewhere?

Before I got to Antica, I was flagged down by a cabbie I’d met earlier that day.  He was standing in a lot, looking at the sun through a dark glass pane.  An eclipse had just started, and looking through this glass was a good way to catch it.  I’ve written in earlier posts that I’m essentially flying blind in the FSU – no English newspapers, not much TV access, so replying entirely on word of mouth and the web for news.  Had no idea that today was an eclipse – good thing I’d been friendly with this cabbie.

Napped, then went for a run around the small park near the guesthouse.  Quite surreal – as I rounded the near end of the park, I passed by Tamerlane’s mausoleum.  Did that three times and then the heat overwhelmed the novelty and I pulled up.  Good enough for one day.  Despite the everyday heat (I wait till sunset to run), I have gotten myself back on the exercise horse – running most days, and enough abdominal, yoga, and resistance cord work to notice a difference.  After I left Goa, in mid-February, I’d been in an exercise vacuum for a bunch of reasons, and it was starting to get me down…now I feel a bit better about myself and I mean to keep this up.

Called my father, we spoke for a minute or so, then got cut off.  We did manage to talk a bit about the Manny Ramirez (Red Sox) trade.  Men talking sports – what more is there to talk about?

Went to Café Blues one more time – I was taking off the next morning for Bukhara.  It was a bit dull, but Eduardo, the house piano player, did a couple sets and that was excellent.  He apparently used to tour with Oscar Peterson and plays like him, and he’s talented.  For me, he played ‘America the Beautiful’ with some flourish – that helped make it a good night despite the general mellowness of the bar.  Then I said good night and walked back towards Antica.  Checked out the 2 bars in the Afrosiyob Hotel – the only real late-night places to go.  Both were dead, even though it was a Friday night.  Oh well.  Saw the writing on the wall and went back to Antica to sleep.  I wasn’t unhappy about that.

Thought ahead to upcoming destination countries – Ukraine, Turkey, Syria, and Israel.  Not sure if I know anyone in those countries, besides in Israel, and even in that country my contacts are few and tenuous.  I need to sit down and think about any old contacts to revive – visiting a place is really so much better when you have someone to show you around.

Next morning I checked email before catching my train to Bukhara.  Got some blog comments from old friend Don, who shared a photo of Seattle and Mt. Olympia looming above it, in response to my request for shots of cities with mountains close by, a la Bishkek.  And Laurie, the wife of a fraternity brother, is a journalist and wrote that she’d once been to ‘the stans’ but only as part of a press entourage and they saw almost nothing…so she was fascinated by my adventures here.  More comments, people…

So off to Bukhara, another Silk Road city of yore.  Bukhara was a separate emirate back in the day, and after the Russian Revolution defied the Soviets, who wound up bombing the place and seizing it in 1920 (old friend M. Frunze was the Soviet general).  Bukhara, while still a sizeable city of perhaps 250,000, is much smaller than Samarkand and has a preserved old city that visitors had raved about.  I wanted to see it…and also to check out the Jewish ‘remnants’ there, once Bukhara was 5-7% Jewish and also had an old Jewish quarter and existing Jewish synagogues and schools.

Denis, the Antica manager, drove me to the station and walked me over to the train.  Turns out Denis is a real hound-dog and likes to chase the local girls around – I should have offered to buy him a few drinks while in Samarkand.  Next time.

Train was full, but not in the Indian sense.  The trip was under 3 hours, and I was met at the station by a driver from my guesthouse, Komil, in the old town.  A Japanese woman came along – she didn’t have a place to stay yet, so I offered to split the cab with her and she accepted.  More on this in a bit.

Bukhara seemed the hottest place yet – as I’d been warned.  Close competitors:  Singapore, Vietnam.  Hard to say which is the hottest, but they’re all up there.  Hard to do much when it’s so hot – in this weather I usually take a nap in late afternoon, then try to exercise.

Bukhara’s old town in crammed full of madrassahs, mosques, and other sights, and it quickly became apparent that very little would sink in if I attempted to see everything on my own.  I got a guide, who was listed in my book, and that was a good call on my part.  Noila was a middle-aged Uzbek woman (who also could have passed for Jewish, I swear) from Bukhara who had been guiding for many years and was friendly and helpful.  She showed me around all the key sites in about 4 hours, and showed me the top artisans in town (without heavy buying pressure – that would have been annoying), as well as sharing some funny local stories and showing me some odd local products – including a weird wooden baby pacifier and a small tubular device you attach to a baby boy’s penis that funnels urine into a bottle – I guess they don’t use diapers here?

Bukhara has loads of madrassahs and a few functioning mosques.  The Soviets, in their infinite humor, turned one into a bar in the 1920s or 30s.  I believe that same mosque, Maghoki-Attar, is the one that was built on top of a Zoroastrian site dating from the 5^th century, and was also (much later) used by Jews as a synagogue at night, after the Muslims had done their thing during the day.  Tolerance, baby…

We visited a small building housing a spring supposedly called forth by biblical Job, who struck that ground with his staff and raised the spring.  Uh huh…I think not even the locals believe that story.

The tour culminated in a walk around the old Ark, the citadel/palace of the local emirs which was bombed and 80% destroyed by the Soviets in 1920.  The views from the top, of the old city, are spectacular, check it out:

Noila works at the Ark, so we parted ways there.  Total cost for 4 hours of guided touring:  US$20.  Not bad – the same rate as quoted in my book, which was reassuring given the inflation attached to nearly every other rate in the country.  As I walked back to my guesthouse, I recalled a podcast about Bukhara I’d listened to back in the Phils a year or so ago.  It was part of a PBS series called ‘Where Do You Live?’ and featured phone interviews with locals around the world.  A Bukhara woman talked about her town, and it sounded so interesting that it solidified my desire to come here.  I wondered if Noila had been that interviewee – when I get to a place with wireless I plan to download that podcast again and check it out…

Went out that night to check out the town – while walking around the Soviet/new part of town, saw some lights on a side street and went over to see what they were.  I came upon Pelican Café/Bar, a good find with cheap, cold draft beer and good food.  Total tab for 2 beers and a beef stroganoff:  US$5.  Coolio.  Then went to look for a late-night entertainment option, Bukhara is a quiet, small city without a lot of that, but I’d heard that the Bukhara Palace Hotel had a basement disco that got going on weekends.  Went there – the disco was closed for renovations.  Ugh.  Was also told that Oscars, a smaller place, was closed.  Heard about ‘Asia Underground’ back in old town, walked there and went in.  OK place – the usual FSU deal with reserved tables.  Stood by the bar and sucked down a few Azia draft beers.  Watched the locals dance and shimmy.  Not a remarkable evening, not that I had expected Tashkent-style nightlife.  One thing I did find remarkable was the consumption of Coca-Cola around here – nearly every table in the club had a 2-liter bottle sitting there.  I’m keeping my Coke stock…and might build up positions in McD’s and the like, lots of room to expand in this part of the world.  If a McD’s or Pizza Hut opened in Tashkent, there would be riots, I’m sure…

Had lunch after the tour at Kochevnik, a restaurant that serves Korean, Japanese, and Russian food, and is co-owned by an ethnic Korean.  This woman was there when I entered, and I told her I wanted 1) a cold Sarbast, and 2) bibimbap.  I get on these ethnic food kicks and can’t let go.  We discussed the bibimbap – with an egg, spicy, with kimchi.  She went off.  I drank my wonderfully cold beer and ruminated.  The food came – and was disappointing, it was just fried rice with kimchi.  And the egg came later – the waitress brought strips of fried egg, not a raw egg that you crack onto the hot stone bowl (here, missing) and mix in with the other ingredients.  This was no bibimbap – still, I was starving so I wolfed it down, vowing not return.  And I didn’t.

It’s so hot in Bukhara that when you leave your room and turn off the aircon, the cleaning woman turns it back on.  Really.  Never seen that before.  Usually they try to eke out every spare watt they can, but not here, or at least not at my hotel, Komil, which was a terrific little place.  Bukhara has lots of guesthouse options and other places should take a look at the hotels here and learn from them…

Took a nap – went for a run.  Nice broad avenues in the new city, got in 4-5 km in the twilight, not too too hot.  As I was nearly finished, a girl got in my way and flagged me down…we couldn’t understand each other, but she seemed amazed that I was a) out running in the heat, or b) an Apollonian god in all my glory.  I would like to believe it was b), but probably not.  Haven’t had that happen to me before…didn’t mind at all.  Reminded me of being in Toledo with friend Ken many years ago, we were in a photo shop and two local woman marveled at my hirsute, tanned frame/face and it looked for a few minutes like we were all going back to our hotel together.  Life should be like that more often…

Went back to Pelican Bar that night.  The barman introduced himself as ‘Sobir’, sounded like ‘sober.’  Great name for a barman – although not as good as another called ‘Arturo Pollo’ in an unnamed Latin nation.  Also met Artur, who helps out there and speaks good English.  The young ‘uns here learn English in school, unlike their parents, so are easier to deal with. 

Got invited over to a table by a group of 4 local guys.  Went over and sat down.  Regular readers will recognize a pattern here, namely that you’re never really alone in the FSU…even if you want to be.  Shared a Pall Mall and a few beers with them, friendly guys who spoke a bit of English.  My Russian has gotten better so can speak a bit in that as well.  Seems they’ve never seen a Western tourist in this bar, only Russians manage to find it.  I’m pretty good about tracking down the good local places – and eveyr night I was in Bukhara I hung out at Pelican.

A word about Soviet toilet paper – it’s like the plumbing, it’s terrible.  The paper is some sort of recycled material which is rough and crepe-like, the rolls are huge and look like they’d last forever, but they go quickly.  I bring this up because by now I’d gotten over my Delhi Belly and was able to ease up on emergency bathroom visits…

Spent some time the next morning on the web.  Bought stock (ADRs) for the Russian telecom companies MTS and Vimpelcom – had gotten a tip in Metro Bar in Bishkek from a guy in the industry, and my own personal observations and investigations had led to me think highly of these outfits.  Spent some time on the Monitor Group alumni network tracking down ex-colleagues in Turkey and Israel – not much luck.  Next will try Darden and Tufts. 

Went to the local bathhouse (hammom) for a steam and massage.  Didn’t go for the shave – the shaving guy seemed unhappy, but I’d shaved that morning (a rarity) and also am a bit edgy about the razors they might use in a place like this.  Anyway, you have to say no sometimes, and this seemed the right time.

Spent some time in the ‘hot room,’ which indeed was hot but not as hot as the 10^th Street Baths in NYC.  Got a massage – the masseur (no females in hammom, they have their own) was brutally strong and nearly ripped my arms off.  I prefer the softer ministrations of Filipina masseuses…

At the end of the massage, the guy rubbed ginger into my skin, and put some on my hand.  He told me ‘put it on penis.’  I put some on (superficially – I didn’t rub it in for 10 minutes), and he told me that it would make it ‘strong tonight.’  Yeah, baby.  I wondered if he could help me track down someone to help in that regard, but didn’t ask – I don’t like getting myself in further than I can climb out.

Then went back into the hot room, where in the space of a minute my entire body was burning, obviously from the ginger.  I was thankful I hadn’t really rubbed the stuff into my groin, because I was in some pain and I now wondered how ‘strong’ I would really be tonight.  I lasted about 15 minutes in there, then went out and got hot and cold water dumped on me by the masseur – that alleviated the stinging.  I’m no dermatologist but I wonder how good ginger is for the skin…

Had another good run that evening, then back to Pelican.  The owner was there that night and found this American intriguing – she couldn’t speak English so she rang up her daughter who translated via mobile.  Had dinner there, a salad with ham and cucumbers, then a very solid ‘julian’ which was a bowl of chicken cubes, mushrooms, and cheese – nice with bread.  And I tried their homemade house wine which was a little sweet but quite good as well.  Pelican really turned out to be a brilliant place, truly local and high quality.  Their pizza was also great and if I lived in Bukhara this would be my hangout nearly every night…at least until the Bukhara Palace Hotel disco got reopened!

Chatted with Sobir, and watched ‘Fashion TV’ on cable.  We jointly ogled for a while…then a shoot from Cebu, Phils came on, I recognized some of the scenes and islands in there.  Not sure when I’ll next be in Cebu, perhaps en route to the States early next year.  I do miss the place, it tugs at my heart for some strange reason…

Went to the toilet.  While relieving myself I looked around at the wall tiles – they were covered in graffiti, seemed strangely similar, and were entirely in English – turned out they weren’t random graffiti but were mass-produced products.  Weird – not sure I’ve seen that before, have you?

The weather seemed to be moderating, not quite as hot as it had been.  The evenings and nights were actually nearly perfect, about 20 Celsius and with a nice breeze.  More and more I thought that this was the right time to come to Uzbekistan.  Then I spotted a large Japanese tour group arriving and began to feel it was already too late…these tour groups are my enemies, I realize why they exist and what the benefits are, but for an indie traveler like me I fear and detest them.  I don’t have actual proof of getting screwed by any tours – only once, in Novgorod, did a large tour group in front of me keep me from getting into a bistro, and anyway that wasn’t my top choice – but whenever I try to book a hotel and it’s sold out, I blame large tour groups.  Always convenient to have a scapegoat – after all, it can’t be my lame planning, can it?

While in Bukhara, I watched the other 2 parts of the Lord of the Rings, and reveled in those near-perfect films.  I seem to be on a huge Tolkien/Middle Earth kick here…I might even venture to check out the ‘special scenes’ on the discs, something I never bother to do…

I was taking a shower one morning when I heard something at my door.  The Japanese girl was knocking – insistently.  I finally toweled off and opened the door.  She said the hotel wanted to charge us US$20 for the cab we’d shared a few days earlier…that sounded about twice as high as I’d thought.  I got the manager over – no, the cab was only $5 apiece, as I’d expected.   The Japanese girl’s English wasn’t good – and she was also a bit hysterical and anxious in general.  I was happy I hadn’t bothered to see if she wanted to get dinner or drinks beforehand, I’d considered it but I didn’t really take to her and now I understood why.

Noticed on a map of Uzbekistan that there’s a town called Bustan, which, when written phonetically in Uzbeki, is spelled Bo’ston.  Random.

Read on the web that Morgan Freeman was badly hurt in a car crash in Mississippi.  Shitty news.  Morgan’s one of my favorite actors and I hope he pulls out of it.  What have you heard?

Spent my last day in Bukhara checking out the 3 major sites just outside town – a major Sufi Islam mosque/mausoleum, the emir’s former summer palace, and a mausoleum, Chor Bakr, for imams/etc.  All nice, the palace was super-kitschy in a funny sense.  Nothing spectacular, but worth seeing.  Afterward, had the driver take me to a shashlik place recommended by some French folks I’d met at Antica in Samarkand.  They told me this place had the best beef and lamb, and the atmosphere was the real deal.

Found a table – the place was pretty full.  Ordered a beer, some beef skewers, bread and salad.  By ‘salad’ I mean a tomato salad, just tomatos and onions – delicious, particularly (really) with a bit of salt and a lot of pepper.  They even use a bit of salt on their fruit here – defeats the notion of healthy living, I suppose, but they do consume their RDA of fruit (esp. watermelon) and a bit of salt is probably OK.  I finished up, belched, and was nearly ready to go.  Then 3 locals came in, and as my table was nearly empty they joined me – standard operating practice here.  No problem, I was almost done.

They spoke almost zero English, we tried a bit of Russian, traded some information.  Friendly guys, two middle-aged and one around 20 or so.  They ordered lagman, bread, beers, and shashliks.  I asked for my bill – wanted to get back to town and chill.  One of the guys, Aslan, motioned for me to sit and relax – I complied.  From our halting conversation I found out that his friend were named Gustan (or maybe Guslan) and ‘George,’ not his real name but we’d been talking politics and this fellow was having some fun. 

I asked him if he was George Bush or George Washington – he said Washington.  I had to laugh, his friends did too – I guess they know our first Pres. even out here.  You can’t always be sure, by the way – don’t assume too much.

At the next table were a bunch of militsiya – cops and other uniformed/camoflauge-wearing personnel.  I glanced back a couple times but ‘George’ reassured me that they were off-duty and no problem.  I showed them my passport and they loved it – we spent 20 minutes going over my visas.  Meanwhile, ‘George’ had ordered a bottle of vodka and it came – Aslan poured us shots (the youngest guy was evidently driving so didn’t drink – admirable – I guess they do care about this sort of thing here, which is heartening).  We wound up drinking the entire bottle (cost:  US$2).  A absolutely classic afternoon – far more interesting/educational/enjoyable than checking out the 3 historic sights, by far.  Every few minutes someone would pour a shot and toast ‘George Washington,’ and we’d drink.  Our ‘George Washington’ didn’t look much like the real one – he had short, salt and pepper hair, a very Central Asian face, and a hefty build.  Should have taken a photo, but it slipped my mind – anyway, sometimes it’s better to be a subtle tourist and not too clumsy about it. 

Finally, we paid (I only took care of my own bill – they wouldn’t let me chip in for the vodka) and we headed outside.  Turned out they knew my driver – small town – and they laughed for a while.  My driver’s car wouldn’t start – he tinkered with it, then we just jump-started with it and headed back to Komil guesthouse.  A funny, funny, funny afternoon.

Went to the nearby Jewish Community Centre/synagogue – a couple local (Muslim, natch) ladies were sweeping the floors, one went and got a Jewish guy to come and show me around.  Small synagogue, but nice enough – there are about 400 Jews left in town, and there’s a second synagogue not far away.  I took a few photos, stuffed some sum in the donations box, and felt I’d done my duty as a good Jewish boy.

Walked to the old Zindon (prison) where a couple British officers had been imprisoned, then executed.  The place was locked, oh well.  Walked back to the guesthouse, it was again very hot.  An Uzbek girl selling ice cream waved…we talked and flirted…then I walked on.

Napped…exercised…walked over to Bella Italia for something different.  It had been closed the previous day, so I had been storing up my yearning for Italian food.  But all the tables were reserved – the place was half-empty, it was nearly 9 p.m. on a Tuesday night, but they said people were coming and they had no room.  I suppose they weren’t lying, but it was odd.  I again wondered how tourists would get on in ‘high season,’ and I left to go to Pelican, where I was pretty sure I’d get a warm welcome at the very least.

Had a few ice-cold beers at Pelican, and some good Russian food.  Observations arising from this and recent repasts:

-I love the taste of freezing cold beer.  Wine is great and I like the occasional spirit (Maker’s Mark), but if it’s at all hot outside I need a cold beer or three to cool off.  And given the FSU’s technical shortcomings, it’s not always easy to get very cold stuff – Pelican and a few other places seem to have cracked the refrigeration code.  Bless ‘em!

-In this age of calorie-counting and ‘food substitutes,’ I’m an outlier.  I like real butter…real cream/milk…good bread.  I really enjoy my food and thus I’ll always need to be good about exercising to work off the feasts I enjoy most nights.

Another, random observation – given how I travel and what I like to do while traveling, it’s nearly impossible to get a lot of (non-blog) writing done.  When I set off on this long journey (do I sound like Frodo?  I hope so), I hoped/expected to devote an hour or two each day to working on my book idea…but I really haven’t stuck to that and seem too busy (and lazy) to sort it out.  Travel planning, for one thing, is a demanding task and I notice that when I get lazy about doing it, I don’t see nearly as much, I stay in crappier places, etc.  Writing the blog every week is quite demanding…but I want to have at least one touchstone every week or so – many times I’ve felt like blowing it off, but know that if my backlog of notes gets too long, I’ll further procrastinate…so I stick to my blog-writing sked.  But the book may have to wait – probably until I’m done with serious travels and sight-seeing, and in a place where there aren’t many demands on my time.  I had thought Goa would be that place, but even while there for a few months, I seemed busy – with arranging my Vietnam trip, etc.  One thing’s for sure – my ability to construct excuses hasn’t dimmed…

Final night in Bukhara.  Went to Pelican, naturally.  No Sobir tonight, asked Artur to tell him goodbye.  I felt like a minor celebrity in there, by now I knew the entire waitstaff and some customers and I liked the vibe immensely.  Running into places like this is one of the treasures of traveling.

Watched ‘The Darjeeling Limited’ movie on disc that night.  What a stinker.  I’d hoped that a movie featuring Owen Wilson, with an Indian backdrop, would be a winner, but it was awful – bad theme, no plot, bad acting, impossible to fathom scenes of India.  Hugely disappointing.  I know that following the LOTR is a tough act, but this was shockingly bad.

Wednesday I traveled from Bukhara to Khiva, via Urgench, in a shared taxi.  Looked at my Treo – noticed it was August 6, the anniversary of the Hiroshima bombings.  Sobering to realize that.

Will write about my time in Khiva and other stops in my next posting.  This entry feels about finished, and I need to do a few things before watching tonight’s Beijing Olympics opening ceremony.  I hope I can find it on the guesthouse’s satellite TV, there seem to be 1000 channels.  Last night, inspired by the Olympics, I went for a run outside the city’s walls – Khiva’s old town,Ichon-Qala, is surrounded by an imposing wall, it’s pretty impressive.  Listened on my iPod Shuffle to Todd Rundgren, and to ‘Old Days’ by Chicago.  Running around this 3,000-year-old city, once a major caravan stop and slave trading center, listening to ‘Old Days’ – that felt a propos.  Consider my Olympic training underway – London 2012, look out.  And over and out, at that.

Tags: Travel

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