this letter is out of order...I just realized that it never got sent following our return from Zarafshon...it should be before the Fergana letter. But i was in a cyber black hole for a while and things just get confused...Oh well, such are the vagaries of travel and intermittent internet connections.
Our return to Tashkent was a long one…we arose at four a.m. so that we could leave the house at five for our desert crossing to Navoi and the train back to the capital…Although the train didn’t leave until 10:00 and the trans-Kyzylkum was a two and a half hour journey, Sisi and Ashraf strongly suggested that we give ourselves lots of leeway. There are no sure bets in the crossing and if we were to have some mishap, blown tire, overheating, etc. we could be derailed, literally and figuratively. As we sped across the seemingly unchanging desert, I had time alone with my thoughts, just as when I walked the Camino, the opportunity to reflect on my days in Zarafshon without distractions. As I wrote to my cousin Bill, who spent years working in the Sinai with Palestinians and understands better than anyone else what I see and feel, “I'm often embarrassed/ashamed/disconcerted by the time it takes me to kick back into a "this is real life," mentality when I have spent my time in places like Tashkent sitting in my four star hotel with wi-fi at my finger tips. But I am never sorry once I am able to walk across that bridge from my fantasy world to the real world in which people exist. I continually find that throughout the world I am treated better by people who have less than I am by the people who seemingly have more...In fact, the people with less have more honesty, are more giving of spirit and have a willingness to share what little they possess of the "things" of the world.” It has been a common thread throughout the world…not governed by politics nor geographic region nor religion…If I/we could only understand that the “Things” are only things, we would have a richer, fuller life and our world would be the better for the transition. It’s hard for me to admit that “poor” people are far richer than I.
But all went well on our trans-Kyzylkum (I love that word) jaunt, and, as such, we had a couple of hours to spin our wheels at the train station and had an interesting with a young woman whose family has lived in Zarafshon generations, works in London, and speaks no Uzbek….The Russian presence in the “republics” is still very strong. The 6 hour ride back to Tashkent was uneventful and upon our arrival, we said our grateful thanks to Sisi for inviting us to her home. It was the type of experience that we really wanted to have this time in Uzbekistan, and she and her family were delightful, gracious and very hospitable…It couldn’t have been more enjoyable…everybody involved went out of their way to ensure that our visit was perfect.
It is difficult to use superlatives about our following day, because it sounds silly in my mind when I say the next day was very special, because they have all been special….how do you say that things get specialer and specialer and the people be more and more memorable without denigrating the earlier events and people…this trip has been everything I had hoped it to be…my friends are even more delightful in person than they have been in cyber connections…Carol is having a great time and everybody loves “granny.”…the personal connections we have had has made her understand why all these kids are so special to me….with that being said….the following day was very special to us both. Two very good friends, Dilafruz and Feruza, who affectionately call me “bobojon,” and “dodajon,” grandfather in Uzbek, met us and took us to the museum of Applied Arts because they knew that “bovijon,” grandmother worked with fiber..Dili said that they would pick us up at the hotel because the museum was a little difficult to find…sure enough, the taxi driver headed in the direction she gave him, and then seemed lost…He asked a person where it was exactly and was told to continue on…after a while, it didn’t seem right to him, so he asked again and was told we had gone too far, so we reversed directions, after asking directions again, we reversed directions, and each time we shortened our reversal..After four such changes in directions we found the side street that led to the museum. In the end, even the taxi driver found the situation amusing. After all of that, the museum was all that Dili had promised it would be. It was very interesting and Carol thoroughly enjoyed seeing all the fabric which came down through the ages and history of this land.
We then headed, dare I say it, to a very special event. Feruza’s father is a very famous artist in Uzbekistan and has held exhibitions in many parts of the world, including the big apple itself. His work is amazing. His historical portrayals of Amir Temur (Tamerlane, to the west) are epic in size and scope, yet hit his individual portraits are exquisite. He is extremely fond of horses and Carol has always told me that depicting horses is very difficult. Yet Aliser captures them perfectly…You just feel the movement of horse and rider in action or simply standing still. I was totally agog with wonder and that is an understatement as he brought out picture after picture for us to see…He was so generous with his time and spirit…I will post his website at the bottom of this letter for you to see if you so choose…It will be worth the time to see his work. Right now he is preparing for an exhibition in Ankara, Turkey, and he has some unfinished work, and that was particularly interesting to see his approach…He explained his process and it was fascinating to get a glimpse of how he sees the world and how he tries to capture that on canvas. Simply an amazing man. Feruza and Dili have been great friends, and just another example of how facebook has enriched my life through contacts with worlds that would otherwise be hidden to me.
Another visit to a school, this one to Shakhlo’s mothers school made me feel like Ghandi getting off the train in India…I’m such an insignificant being, yet I’m made to feel so very important when we visit…We speak to students…Carol is more than willing to have me take the forefront and most of the questions are directed to me…however, when one question was asked and I was saying how Carol reacted to a situation, one female student interrupted and said: “Let her speak for herself.” It was a great moment, and one in which we all took great pleasure. And Carol did answer for herself. After an hour of such banter, which has been very well received by students and appreciated by teachers we took our leave and headed for the next encounter of the day…one interesting fact that really struck us was when we were leaving one “Lyceum,” high school, three English teachers told us it was very special because it was the first time any of them had spoken to a native English speaker. Amazing.
Off for lunch with Guli, one of the sweet ladies of this or any other world…She is also one of my sad friends…very intelligent and hard working, her family has gone to Germany where her father is a doctor…he could attain residency because of his medical skills, but Guli was left behind in the care of her grandmother in far off Urgench a very provincial and traditional town in the western part of Uzbekistan…She has come to Tashkent for her university work which she has now finished. She desperately misses her parents and she has a little five year old brother whom she has never seen. She has tried several times to get a visa to visit them in Berlin, but has been denied each time…she is 20 years old, single and beautiful…all adding up to making the Germans believe that she simply wants to come and get married…They give her no reason for the denial, but that is how she interprets the situation… Her grandmother wants her to return to Urgench and she will arrange a marriage for her, but this is not for Guli. She wants to find her own way in the world….But she lives by herself and feels very much alone in the world. She feels things very deeply and the tears well up in her eyes when she speaks of coping with her difficulty…her latest, and maybe last, hope is that she will be accepted into a university in Berlin and be able to receive a visa to study there…she feels confident about being accepted but is very fearful that another visa rejection will simply break her spirit and heart…It is so hard for me to see such struggles in a wonderful young lady who is such a good friend….these are real people living real lives that we’ve come to meet, not just cyber entities existing on my laptop.
Dinner at Shah’s house topped off the day…another insight to family life…the buildings where so many friends live seem so drab on the outside, but inside each family has created their own little world that is beautiful and comfortable…small, by our western standards, these people do not see it that way…they are rightfully proud of their homes….their furnishings and accoutrements of life belie the exteriors of the buildings….Shah’s mom, whose school we had visited earlier that day, again put out a spread that was fit for royalty…food was everywhere on the table and we ate till we could not eat any more, and then the main dish, Palov, came out…we were so stuffed…Shah’s father who imports and exports tires to western Europe is a jovial man of great warmth and he exudes joy from every pore of his body…Out came the vodka, of course, and although I tried to decline, he poured two glasses and gave me one…we toasted each other and I slammed mine home. However, he did not drink his, and I wondered if I had committed some social faux pas by drinking too soon…his glass remained untouched until it was explained that he stopped drinking six years earlier…therefore, I had to finish his as well…
Malika, Shah’s best friend and giggle-mate came to dinner, of course. These two are rarely separated and as dinner got later and later with all the food, conversation, piano playing, Mali’s mom called numerous times…we finally begged off the evening and food at 10:30 that night so we could be driven back home and Mali’s mother could relax…the girls had lyceum the next morning and we hoped that her mom would not be too upset over the lateness of the evening.
We finished off our second stay in Tashkent with another visit to another school…this one a college as opposed to a Lyceum…same age of kids, but in this case many of the students were vocationally trained whereas in a Lyceum, they are all trained for university entry…the college had programs in cooking and sewing amongst others….most of the students in Shah and Mali’s lyceum were girls because it was a school specializing in foreign languages, and the college was mostly boys, the most popular course for training being cooking.
The remainder of the day was spent with a family very different from any that we had visited…Nasiba’s mother wears the romol, or head scarf when visitors are in the home, and the hajib – think of a divers head piece covering head, neck and hair line, but made of fine silk, leaving the face exposed…her earrings and jewelry and make-up gave her a very striking appearance and her eyes twinkled all the time…Nasi was held up at language class, and so we communicated in a limited manner until her brother showed up. He is a very gifted architect with limited training and has worked for a firm designing mosques, businesses and homes, all of which have been built already…an incredible one for a Tashkent soccer player was mind boggling in its conception. But he wants to get a university degree so he can understand the mathematics and physics of construction…very interesting, and then sweet Nasi came home with her ever present smile and gentle nature…we talked and chatted for the afternoon and, of course, mom insisted on fixing dinner which was whipped up in an hour, a grape leaf dish that was delicious and filling. The hospitality and conviviality of home life is heartwarming and wonderful to see.
Now we’re off to Fergana and Andijon…places we’ve never been unlike most of the cities on our agenda…who knows what lies ahead, but the promise of wondrous times tweaks our imagination, and I have no doubt that it will be rewarding and gratifying.
Stay tuned,
Carol and Jim
http://alikulov-alisher.narod.ru/indexen.htm
Another visit to a school, this one to Shakhlo’s mothers school made me feel like Ghandi getting off the train in India…I’m such an insignificant being, yet I’m made to feel so very important when we visit…We speak to students…Carol is more than willing to have me take the forefront and most of the questions are directed to me…however, when one question was asked and I was saying how Carol reacted to a situation, one female student interrupted and said: “Let her speak for herself.” It was a great moment, and one in which we all took great pleasure. And Carol did answer for herself. After an hour of such banter, which has been very well received by students and appreciated by teachers we took our leave and headed for the next encounter of the day…one interesting fact that really struck us was when we were leaving one “Lyceum,” high school, three English teachers told us it was very special because it was the first time any of them had spoken to a native English speaker. Amazing.
Off for lunch with Guli, one of the sweet ladies of this or any other world…She is also one of my sad friends…very intelligent and hard working, her family has gone to Germany where her father is a doctor…he could attain residency because of his medical skills, but Guli was left behind in the care of her grandmother in far off Urgench a very provincial and traditional town in the western part of Uzbekistan…She has come to Tashkent for her university work which she has now finished. She desperately misses her parents and she has a little five year old brother whom she has never seen. She has tried several times to get a visa to visit them in Berlin, but has been denied each time…she is 20 years old, single and beautiful…all adding up to making the Germans believe that she simply wants to come and get married…They give her no reason for the denial, but that is how she interprets the situation… Her grandmother wants her to return to Urgench and she will arrange a marriage for her, but this is not for Guli. She wants to find her own way in the world….But she lives by herself and feels very much alone in the world. She feels things very deeply and the tears well up in her eyes when she speaks of coping with her difficulty…her latest, and maybe last, hope is that she will be accepted into a university in Berlin and be able to receive a visa to study there…she feels confident about being accepted but is very fearful that another visa rejection will simply break her spirit and heart…It is so hard for me to see such struggles in a wonderful young lady who is such a good friend….these are real people living real lives that we’ve come to meet, not just cyber entities existing on my laptop.
Dinner at Shah’s house topped off the day…another insight to family life…the buildings where so many friends live seem so drab on the outside, but inside each family has created their own little world that is beautiful and comfortable…small, by our western standards, these people do not see it that way…they are rightfully proud of their homes….their furnishings and accoutrements of life belie the exteriors of the buildings….Shah’s mom, whose school we had visited earlier that day, again put out a spread that was fit for royalty…food was everywhere on the table and we ate till we could not eat any more, and then the main dish, Palov, came out…we were so stuffed…Shah’s father who imports and exports tires to western Europe is a jovial man of great warmth and he exudes joy from every pore of his body…Out came the vodka, of course, and although I tried to decline, he poured two glasses and gave me one…we toasted each other and I slammed mine home. However, he did not drink his, and I wondered if I had committed some social faux pas by drinking too soon…his glass remained untouched until it was explained that he stopped drinking six years earlier…therefore, I had to finish his as well…
Malika, Shah’s best friend and giggle-mate came to dinner, of course. These two are rarely separated and as dinner got later and later with all the food, conversation, piano playing, Mali’s mom called numerous times…we finally begged off the evening and food at 10:30 that night so we could be driven back home and Mali’s mother could relax…the girls had lyceum the next morning and we hoped that her mom would not be too upset over the lateness of the evening.
We finished off our second stay in Tashkent with another visit to another school…this one a college as opposed to a Lyceum…same age of kids, but in this case many of the students were vocationally trained whereas in a Lyceum, they are all trained for university entry…the college had programs in cooking and sewing amongst others….most of the students in Shah and Mali’s lyceum were girls because it was a school specializing in foreign languages, and the college was mostly boys, the most popular course for training being cooking.
The remainder of the day was spent with a family very different from any that we had visited…Nasiba’s mother wears the romol, or head scarf when visitors are in the home, and the hajib – think of a divers head piece covering head, neck and hair line, but made of fine silk, leaving the face exposed…her earrings and jewelry and make-up gave her a very striking appearance and her eyes twinkled all the time…Nasi was held up at language class, and so we communicated in a limited manner until her brother showed up. He is a very gifted architect with limited training and has worked for a firm designing mosques, businesses and homes, all of which have been built already…an incredible one for a Tashkent soccer player was mind boggling in its conception. But he wants to get a university degree so he can understand the mathematics and physics of construction…very interesting, and then sweet Nasi came home with her ever present smile and gentle nature…we talked and chatted for the afternoon and, of course, mom insisted on fixing dinner which was whipped up in an hour, a grape leaf dish that was delicious and filling. The hospitality and conviviality of home life is heartwarming and wonderful to see.
Now we’re off to Fergana and Andijon…places we’ve never been unlike most of the cities on our agenda…who knows what lies ahead, but the promise of wondrous times tweaks our imagination, and I have no doubt that it will be rewarding and gratifying.
Stay tuned,
Carol and Jim
http://alikulov-alisher.narod.ru/indexen.htm
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