We traipsed across Uzbekistan and made four separate trips to Tashkent, but it was to Bukhara where we had our longest sojourn….nine days. There was a block of friends/granddaughters there and we wanted to be able to concentrate our time there without running in and out of town on our way to some place else.
It was an easy three hour train ride, made easier by the fact that our six person cabin was occupied by two sleeping women who managed to occupy all six seats…they waved Carol away as she tried to enter the compartment…they had no intention of sharing…luckily there was a three person compartment which was unoccupied and so we were relocated to it and had a quiet ride with plenty of room. The ride was a microcosm of Uzbekistan….we passed rural villages seemingly totally constructed of adobe with small gardens located within the walls of a compound. Uzbeks relish their gardens where they grow a variety of vegetables and fruits….men and women worked on their haunches weeding, watering, and maintaining the field of cotton, white gold as it is referred to in Uzbekistan, fields which seemed too large to work by hand, yet there was rarely a tractor to be seen…small herds of cattle or sheep and goats were tended by young boys who sat under whatever shade could be had, while donkeys grazed tethered to their carts waiting to do their tasks of ferrying goods or people from field to home or market…..the topography was mainly flat, but varied from lush to desert as streams worked their way across the landscape….
At the station we were met by the brother and father of our main hosts, the Akramovs….Xafiza Akramova is one of my dearest friends in the entire country…the “a” at the end of her name is an appellation given to all female members of a family, whether it is the first or last name….Aziz for a male, Aziza for a female, as an example of first name usage. “Hafi” as she is called (the “X” is pronounced like “H”) was busy at home helping mom prepare the wonderful dinner that we were served that night….We were supposed to stay in their home for our duration, but Uzbek laws being what they are, we were prevented from doing so, but we still made that home our base and were guests in their home several times over the next nine days.
As we had found in Tashkent, when Uzbeks invite you for dinner, it is an absolute feast. We had commented to ourselves about how small the plates are that Uzbeks eat from…they are more like coffee saucers than dinner plates…the reason we concluded was that because of all the food on the table, there would not be any room for large plates…fruits, nuts, cold cuts, cheeses, salads and other individual dishes are placed on the table and eaten in any random order chosen. Once you have filled up on these items and can’t possibly eat any more, the main course comes out. In this case It was large platters of Palov, the main dish in Uzbek cuisine. It is fixed differently in all regions, but is a rice base with beef and vegetables added…raisins, carrots and other foods and spices are added depending upon the region. As Carol and I looked at each other and said with our eyes: “How can we put any more food in our bodies,” we were exhorted by Hafi to “eat, eat, eat.”…it became our running joke the next three days. The table was set for the entire family, grandmother, cousins, aunts and Hafi’s immediate family as well. They all live within a few houses of each other and the 14 cousins have all grown up together and are friends as well as family.
The following morning we made a journey outside of Bukhara to visit a friend’s home in Gi’jduvan, a market center, where the traditional market was in super size with the same vibrancy and life emanating from every corner. It is famous throughout Uzbekistan.
People come from all over the country to buy and sell because of its size and scope. Prices are lower and the variety of goods and services available are so varied that it is held every day, whereas most large market towns hold theirs once a week. Our trip by taxi was typical…I was the guest, and wasn’t allowed to pay for anything….the four females were crammed into the back seat while, as normal, I enjoyed the front seat along with the driver…a front seat witness to the possible mayhem that could have occurred as we bobbed and wove our way down the road for 45 minutes. When we arrived Yuli, Mari, and Dili went off t buy something to take to the family. It is considered impolite to show up with nothing when invited to a house…Carol always had scarves and doilies to give to the mother of the house. It gave us the opportunity to see another interesting town and a great market, as well as another hospitable Uzbek home….Nasi, who’s home we had come to visit was a perfect hostess….Uzbeks girls get a lot of practice growing up watching mom.
Another friend, Yulduz, arranged for us to see the rehearsal for the big university games that were upcoming in the near future…near future, I say, because the games are another example of how things can be delayed and/or postponed by some whim of an official…It was to be held on the 26-28th of Maym but it was postponed, since it was delayed, we never saw the real deal, but the rehearsal was pretty spectacular…5,000 school aged girls aged 14 to 22 all practicing, sort of, their drills, while a thousand males carried flags for the opening ceremonies….they practice twice a day, early morning and late afternoon, and the girls told me they were pretty tired of practicing….hence about 2,000 of the girls were talking on their cell phone, another 500 were running around hugging and laughing with friends, who they hadn’t seen for probably two hours, although they had probably talked to them on their phones… fully another 1,000 were sitting on the ground not doing anything, while the remainder practiced…all to the shrill shouts of the director into the over-amped loudspeakers screaming at them to pay attention….how anybody thinks that that many teenage and above girls can be congregated in one place and get anything accomplished outside of China, perhaps, is beyond me….we watched for a couple hours and then left…as we did so, friends came running to give us hugs and greetings, we were hijacked by a TV crew and asked what we thought of the whole deal…diplomatic answers full of praise were warmly received, and over a week later while back in Tashkent, many friends said that they giggled with delight as they saw us on TV…such is the life of celebrities…..LOL
Hafi’s father acted as taxi driver and we went on excursions to holy as well as historical sights over the next few days….other friends called our room and invited us to meet and have tea, juice, lunch or whatever was appropriate for the time frame involved. We fled back to the cool of our room and its wi-fi as the temperature soared to over 100 degrees in the afternoon, but in the early evening everything changes…families come out and stroll the plaza known as Lyabi Hauz where a tree planted in 1477 stands under state protection to demonstrate that this is an ancient place. It is no longer alive, but has become a symbol of Bukhara. Little children sit in robot-controlled cars while their mothers/fathers steer them slowly around the plaza while balloon salesmen, cotton candy makers, and other hawkers of kid’s goodies ply their trade. We enjoyed our evenings sitting there with our friends chatting and taking in the whole colorful scene. Ice cream vendors dispensed soft ice cream from machines and the ever present green tea was always served…Uzbeks love their tea hot at all times of the year… while I, the pampered westerner, longed for an ice cube, which, of course, was nowhere to be had.
The tourist season will soon come to an end with the temperatures continuing to rise as summer approaches, but still large groups of westerners speaking European tongues were seen and heard throughout Bukhara…very few Americans venture this far…those who do are pretty savvy travelers because most people in the states haven’t even heard of Uzbekistan. Those who do venture this far into Central Asia find a land steeped in tradition and proud of their history…Amir Temur, or Tammerlane, as previously noted, may be considered a scourge and a butt kicker to other people’s of the area, but he is revered here. He is their unifier of culture. They also find a people who are among the most hospitable and friendly to outside cultures. Foreigners are also buoyed by the fact that so many different languages are taught in Uzbekistan..Students may learn many different languages, there are several universities devoted strictly to the teaching of the great languages of the world..English, of course, is the most predominant with the new laws, but French, German, Chinese, Japanese, to name a few are well represented, and Korean is huge here.
We had enough varied activities with my friends to keep our interests alive and we didn’t feel that we just sat around and talked….everybody wanted to show us their favorite spots…whether it was visiting holy sites outside of Bukhara which gave us glimpses of the different villages and terrains while mixing in lots of conversation time as well. So our time was, again, well spent here…
There were two main knots of friends here and more or less split our time between the two. the first came from my friend Marhabo, who we had met two years ago and from whom maybe a dozen friends sprung, while a second came to be known as the 4 amigas to me because their friendship was as close as it could be…a kinship that would be envied by any culture…they are going their own way now that they are getting married and their lives take on a very different influence than before. The husband’s family becomes the new focus. Two of the amigas are married now, one is to be a mother, and another to be married this summer, but there is a closeness that nothing can diminish. It is wonderful to see these ties. We in the west move about so much it is hard to maintain old friendships, but Uzbeks tend to stay in one place all their lives….the government encourages this by restricting movement to the Capital Tashkent…if you are not born in the city you must get a new registration paper every six months to remain in the capital…students, businessmen, and anyone else wanting to stay in the capital must re-apply for the new “passport” to stay…it’s their own form of a “green card.”
Carol had brought a stash of scarves which she had made over the last year and some crocheted doilies as well, and she doled them out to friends and mothers to whose houses we were invited…over 25 of them now reside within the various cities of Uzbekistan…they were, naturally received with great pleasure, and it was her way to help return the gift of hospitality and friendship that was continually offered to us.
It’s a special place with very special people.
People come from all over the country to buy and sell because of its size and scope. Prices are lower and the variety of goods and services available are so varied that it is held every day, whereas most large market towns hold theirs once a week. Our trip by taxi was typical…I was the guest, and wasn’t allowed to pay for anything….the four females were crammed into the back seat while, as normal, I enjoyed the front seat along with the driver…a front seat witness to the possible mayhem that could have occurred as we bobbed and wove our way down the road for 45 minutes. When we arrived Yuli, Mari, and Dili went off t buy something to take to the family. It is considered impolite to show up with nothing when invited to a house…Carol always had scarves and doilies to give to the mother of the house. It gave us the opportunity to see another interesting town and a great market, as well as another hospitable Uzbek home….Nasi, who’s home we had come to visit was a perfect hostess….Uzbeks girls get a lot of practice growing up watching mom.
Another friend, Yulduz, arranged for us to see the rehearsal for the big university games that were upcoming in the near future…near future, I say, because the games are another example of how things can be delayed and/or postponed by some whim of an official…It was to be held on the 26-28th of Maym but it was postponed, since it was delayed, we never saw the real deal, but the rehearsal was pretty spectacular…5,000 school aged girls aged 14 to 22 all practicing, sort of, their drills, while a thousand males carried flags for the opening ceremonies….they practice twice a day, early morning and late afternoon, and the girls told me they were pretty tired of practicing….hence about 2,000 of the girls were talking on their cell phone, another 500 were running around hugging and laughing with friends, who they hadn’t seen for probably two hours, although they had probably talked to them on their phones… fully another 1,000 were sitting on the ground not doing anything, while the remainder practiced…all to the shrill shouts of the director into the over-amped loudspeakers screaming at them to pay attention….how anybody thinks that that many teenage and above girls can be congregated in one place and get anything accomplished outside of China, perhaps, is beyond me….we watched for a couple hours and then left…as we did so, friends came running to give us hugs and greetings, we were hijacked by a TV crew and asked what we thought of the whole deal…diplomatic answers full of praise were warmly received, and over a week later while back in Tashkent, many friends said that they giggled with delight as they saw us on TV…such is the life of celebrities…..LOL
Hafi’s father acted as taxi driver and we went on excursions to holy as well as historical sights over the next few days….other friends called our room and invited us to meet and have tea, juice, lunch or whatever was appropriate for the time frame involved. We fled back to the cool of our room and its wi-fi as the temperature soared to over 100 degrees in the afternoon, but in the early evening everything changes…families come out and stroll the plaza known as Lyabi Hauz where a tree planted in 1477 stands under state protection to demonstrate that this is an ancient place. It is no longer alive, but has become a symbol of Bukhara. Little children sit in robot-controlled cars while their mothers/fathers steer them slowly around the plaza while balloon salesmen, cotton candy makers, and other hawkers of kid’s goodies ply their trade. We enjoyed our evenings sitting there with our friends chatting and taking in the whole colorful scene. Ice cream vendors dispensed soft ice cream from machines and the ever present green tea was always served…Uzbeks love their tea hot at all times of the year… while I, the pampered westerner, longed for an ice cube, which, of course, was nowhere to be had.
The tourist season will soon come to an end with the temperatures continuing to rise as summer approaches, but still large groups of westerners speaking European tongues were seen and heard throughout Bukhara…very few Americans venture this far…those who do are pretty savvy travelers because most people in the states haven’t even heard of Uzbekistan. Those who do venture this far into Central Asia find a land steeped in tradition and proud of their history…Amir Temur, or Tammerlane, as previously noted, may be considered a scourge and a butt kicker to other people’s of the area, but he is revered here. He is their unifier of culture. They also find a people who are among the most hospitable and friendly to outside cultures. Foreigners are also buoyed by the fact that so many different languages are taught in Uzbekistan..Students may learn many different languages, there are several universities devoted strictly to the teaching of the great languages of the world..English, of course, is the most predominant with the new laws, but French, German, Chinese, Japanese, to name a few are well represented, and Korean is huge here.
We had enough varied activities with my friends to keep our interests alive and we didn’t feel that we just sat around and talked….everybody wanted to show us their favorite spots…whether it was visiting holy sites outside of Bukhara which gave us glimpses of the different villages and terrains while mixing in lots of conversation time as well. So our time was, again, well spent here…
There were two main knots of friends here and more or less split our time between the two. the first came from my friend Marhabo, who we had met two years ago and from whom maybe a dozen friends sprung, while a second came to be known as the 4 amigas to me because their friendship was as close as it could be…a kinship that would be envied by any culture…they are going their own way now that they are getting married and their lives take on a very different influence than before. The husband’s family becomes the new focus. Two of the amigas are married now, one is to be a mother, and another to be married this summer, but there is a closeness that nothing can diminish. It is wonderful to see these ties. We in the west move about so much it is hard to maintain old friendships, but Uzbeks tend to stay in one place all their lives….the government encourages this by restricting movement to the Capital Tashkent…if you are not born in the city you must get a new registration paper every six months to remain in the capital…students, businessmen, and anyone else wanting to stay in the capital must re-apply for the new “passport” to stay…it’s their own form of a “green card.”
Carol had brought a stash of scarves which she had made over the last year and some crocheted doilies as well, and she doled them out to friends and mothers to whose houses we were invited…over 25 of them now reside within the various cities of Uzbekistan…they were, naturally received with great pleasure, and it was her way to help return the gift of hospitality and friendship that was continually offered to us.
It’s a special place with very special people.
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