Road to Samarkand, Uzbekistan

Oct. 14, 2023- Road to Samarkand, Uzbekistan AOL isn't working. Trying Gmail. Hope this gets through Don’t mess with Yura. Not only does he have a PhD in history, but he was ranked boxing champion of Uzbekistan in 1996. He’s the only guide we’ve had who wanted to control our passports. He retrieves them from the hotel on days we transfer from city to city then deposits them at the next hotel. We don’t argue. We bounced our way out of Tashkent on our springless bus and soon were surrounded by pastures. The usual occupants grazed peacefully with the addition of domesticated camel herds. Since camels only bear one baby a lifetime and the meat is tough, Uzbeks keep them solely for their milk and wool. We only took photos of the livestock from the bus, but got off at a huge melon market. Yes, Virginia, there are real “melon farmers.” These men spend 24/7 at their stands during melon season sleeping on beds set up beside the four lane highway. They’re rocked to sleep by speeding semis but will wake to sell melons at any hour. The samples we tasted were “mazalli.” Our first rest stop was at a gas station selling methane and butane. Since tanks are filled under intense pressure, there was nothing self service about it. Passengers and driver have to leave the car and stand at a distance during fueling. Explosions are possible. Cotton fields were plentiful and Yura regaled us with fond memories of university days when students were compelled to “volunteer” two months a year picking cotton. He likened it to summer camp. Men and women were separated at night, but that didn’t stop hormones and ingenuity resulting in romance, marriages, and some babies. Nowadays farmers have to pay for labor, although they still rent and can’t own the land. Travel time is often educational. Yura explained the dilemma facing Uzbekistan in 1991. With the dissolution of the Soviet Union, they had to choose between becoming a democratic republic or Islamic state. The IMU (Islamic Movement or Uzbekistan) was overruled and fled to Afghanistan and Pakistan. They still try to infiltrate and stir up trouble, but are strictly discouraged. As to general security, Uzbeks fear Afghanistan and China more than Russia. The government that emerged was constitutional, but weighted toward presidential control. The constitution calls for a maximum of two consecutive four year terms for president, but the first president held office for 25 years. How did that happen? Constitutionally, the senate is 50% elected and 50% appointed by the president. He kept having his term extended as all he needed was one more vote. The new president has extended his term, but made changes that are welcome. He cleaned up the black market currency exchange and restored confidence in banks. Education is free from elementary through high school, although parents chip in for supplies and cleaning. Schools are run in either the Uzbek or Russian language with Russian being more popular. New mothers have six months leave while their job is held. Pre-school is public or private and prepares children for the elementary entrance exam. Bribery is common if a child fails. Bribery is also used at the university level to ensure high grades. Nowadays, Yura would rather use a doctor trained during Soviet times and not a younger one who might have bribed their way through med school We arrived in Samarkand in time for a late lunch then started touring. The preferred language in this region is Persian. The crops are fruit, and the regional hero is Tamerlane (1336-1405). His real name was Temur. He walked with a limp. Brits called him Tamer the Lame, which evolved to Tamerlane. He conquered what is now Central Asia, Iran, and Afghanistan leaving 18 million dead. A patron of arts and science, he died of pneumonia, undefeated in battle. He left stunning architecture in his wake. He must have liked blue and green mosaic, because the similarity in design is striking. We visited his family mausoleum and Ulugbek Observatory (1426) where the remains of a giant sextant is preserved. We’ll be at the Grand Samarkand Superior Hotel three nights. It’s small and quaint. That means no elevator. It isn’t a coincidence that our room is on the ground floor. Yura has evaluated our abilities well. He hasn’t helped anyone with the hundreds of steps we’ve already climbed. That is left to group members. I’m in charge of David and KC. Nancy is in charge of Joan. It just worked out that way. Big news is that I scored a hippo keychain. No one in the shop understood “hippopotum.” One man thought it was an elephant and held his arm up to mimic a trunk. I moved his arm away and gestured “big teeth and mouth.” I then said “water.” He said “very round.” Bingo! Bigger news. One of our bus windows splintered into hundreds of pieces. Yura found a rock in the bus that must have been kicked up by a passing car. Tonight the driver arranged to have it replaced. Fortunately, no one was sitting near it and the safety glass did its thing. Tomorrow we’re introduced to Bukharan Jews. They’re Persian speaking Jews related to the Mountain Jews we met in Azerbaijan last year. There were tens of thousands of them in Uzbekistan. The majority of Yura’s schooling was spent with them until a Jewish day school was built. There was an exodus to Israel in the 1970’s and again in the 1990’s. Yura said it was for more opportunity and a better life. From tens of thousands there are only 50 today in Samarkand and 120 in Bukhara. Toby

Touring Tashkent, Uzbekistan

Oct. 13, 2023-touring Tashkent, Uzbekistan We learned that Yura is unforgiving. KC, a woman in our group, slept through her alarm. She was at least 20 minutes late this morning. The guide was royally pissed. Jet lag and other excuses aside, he told us that this was the last day he’d excuse lateness. From now on he’d leave on time and we’d have to call him to find out where we could meet the group and make our way there on our own and at our expense. On a more personal note, I found out that if I’m tired enough I will forget to take my contact lenses out at bedtime and wonder where they were when I open my case to put them in the next morning. Our first stop was the memorial to those killed in the earthquake of April 26, 1966, measuring 7.2 on the Richter scale. Uzbekistan has daily earthquakes that might not even be felt. There is usually one major quake per century. Being part of the USSR at the time, it was reported that 3 people died and 120+ were hospitalized. In actuality more like 180,000 died. All that being equal, buildings were not rebuilt up to earthquake codes nor is new construction to this day. In 2017 there was one that registered 6.2. I hope that’s it for the 21st century. When we stopped at the Central Bazaar we were met with a hive of activity. We followed Yura around for 1 1/2 hours going from one section to another chatting (through him) with vendors. I’d had too much to drink at breakfast and had to use the Eastern style facilities. It was time to try my feminine urinary device. Even though I’d practiced at home, this time I failed. The funnel style cone wouldn’t open properly, my jeans weren’t positioned well, and it was too dark to see where the stream was going. You get the picture of panic. Here comes TMI. I stopped the stream and squatted. AAAh! The old fashioned solution. On to the history museum. Uzbekistan was originally submerged under an ocean. All that was left after it dried up was the Aral Sea. Now that too is gone. The ocean gave way to desert enabling trade routes to be established. There are more civilizations that ruled or passed through this area than can be listed. This tour is titled “Exploring the Silk Road.” That is a modern term. Natives called it the Road of Fate. Whether you started your journey from China to the West rich or poor, the wealth you gained or lost on your trek was in the hands of fate. And fate may have led many of us on a scholastic road to Algebra classes. Some of us emerged wiser and some floundered and sank. We owe the experience to an Uzbek, Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi. We can also thank Uzbekistan for the founder of modern medicine. And an Uzbeki theorized that the Earth was round 500 years before Copernicus. Lunch was on our own except Yura offered to take anyone interested to a plov restaurant. We all went. Plov is similar to rice pilaf. Here it can be made with horse sausage. Yes, Black Beauty is food. Yes, it’s permissible for Muslims to eat their horse if it’s a matter of saving their life. Yes, it will still be a blot on their record when they die. Yes, they eat it here anyway. We watched plov being made in 8 ft. diameter pots heated by wood then plunged into a restaurant seating 2,000 people. They do have table service and we ordered meat (chicken and beef) as well as vegetarian variety. Quail eggs were included. It was made with the usual onions and carrots with the addition of raisins and chickpeas. Mazali. That’s delicious in Uzbek. We arrived at our hotel in time for a talk about life under the USSR and now. The bottom line is that folks have selective memory. They forget about purges, starvation, and shortages and remember free apartments, education, and medical care. Today there is a conflict between renewal of radical Islamic ways and Western ideas. The government is diligent about immigration from radicalized countries and wouldn’t even take Afghani refugees when the US pulled out. They fear the Taliban like the plague. And speaking of plagues, homosexuality is illegal. Discussion of the issue is allowed, but demonstrations are not lest children be taught of it and tempted. Like that ever works. To sum up, our group attention span was at a low point. Three people openly slept (David among them) and others listened with eyes closed. We are not planning to eat dinner tonight, but may get a snack in the hotel. We’ll go to sleep early since the bus leaves for Samarkand tomorrow at 8 AM. I don’t want to be late and have to figure out that trip on our own. Toby

Reunited

Oct. 12, 2023- Tashkent, Uzbekistan- Reunited At 3 AM our guide, Yura , was informed that our luggage had arrived. He called us after breakfast and we cabbed our way through a sea of white Chevys to the airport. Evidently, Chevrolet has factories here. White is popular because of resale in this 90% desert country. Oh, and although equipped with rear seatbelts, they’re never used. Found that out when the driver got upset that I was trying to fish mine out. They also use propane. More smog, more fuel smell, more explosive, less toxic. Yura is Christian, his wife is Muslim, and his three children (19, 13, 4) are deciding. His parents were S. Korean and Russian. He speaks 9 languages, but his children only speak 5. His wife was a pediatrician, but is teaching primary school now. Both jobs are similarly poorly paid. Most people speak at least three languages and read three alphabets. Originally, everything was written in Arabic. When the Soviets took over it was Cyrillic. In recent years the government has declared the written word be in Latin letters. The airport was crowded with hundreds of people going on pilgrimage to Mecca. This was not Haj. The Saudi government doubled the cost of Haj after Covid. It now costs $6,000 to $7,000 per person. The waiting list is 15 years or longer. Yura said the Saudis could make it free. Now it was for the privileged class. Yura wasn’t permitted into the airport for reasons he and we didn’t understand, but we had no trouble locating the lost and found. There they were in their purple and red glory. Our two bags festooned with more “Priority” and “Rush” tags than I’ve ever seen. It was a happy reunion. We had a group meeting at noon where Yura laid down the rules. He told us it was forbidden by him for us to discuss American politics. He had an ugly incident where he had to break up a fight between tourists throwing dishes at each other. There are twelve in our group. As far as we determined, eight are Jewish. One woman from San Francisco knew of my Aunt RIta Semel from when she was on TV doing a Q & A program. Lunch was at a lovely place where we were introduced to some local fare: mushroom broth, pilaf, borek (cheese filled fried roll-ups), and bean salad. The main was thinly sliced tough looking steak that turned our to be tender. It was served with fries and bbq sauce. For those of you who are interested in food, you’re welcome. For those who could care less, skip the food references. The real touring began after lunch. We headed for the old city where houses of straw infused stucco with fire brick foundations survived earthquakes for centuries. We walked to a plaza where typical mosaic embellished buildings housed a mosque, former madrassa, and museum for ancient books. There rested the oldest and most intact Koran, written in 644 CE, a gift from Tamerlane to the Uzbek people. Tamerlane ( 14th-15th century) was a Turcic-Mongul conqueror who ruled a century after Genghis Khan. We walked to dinner as a group. Why cities build boulevard sidewalks with steps every few feet beats me. I’d be inclined to stroll and window shop if I didn’t have to constantly check my footing. Dinner was less than Uzbek fare: pizza appetizer and pasta carbonara (beef bacon). Facts: Uzbeks hope to keep the separation between religion and government as long as possible, but there has been an infiltration of conservative Islam into schools and more women are choosing to wear scarves or hajibs. David is not the slowest person in the group. Yay! There are at least two who need help with steps and seem to have stamina issues. Yura’s pace is blessedly moderate. This is a cash society. US dollars are welcome for all transactions. They will give change in the same. There is no drug problem. The penalty is 25 years for buying or selling. They don’t believe it’s an illness. BTW, the word for hippopotamus in Uzbek is “hippopotum.” Everyone is on alert. If you’re new to my travels, our granddaughter, Rylee, collects them. We’ve brought her one from everywhere we’ve been. Toby

JFK-Istanbul, Turkey-Tashkent, Uzbekistan

JFK to Istanbul (9 hours) to Tashkent,Uzbekistan (4 more hours), They say it’s good luck for a bird to poop on you. I hope it’s true. It happened to me this morning while waiting for the airport shuttle. I hightailed it to the bathroom and scrubbed. The least of it was a soggy sleeve. The worst was I had to sleep in it. And, yes. JFK TSA had an interest in the Miralax, so where’s the luck? Before our flight, we chatted with some people in the lounge. One couple was from Sydney, and the single woman was a New Yorker. it came about we are all Jewish. David had just read an email from friends in Jerusalem and was brought to tears…real sobs. The Israeli folks who were ardent doves and worked against building more settlements and hoping for a two-state solution are distraught. Our flight was on time landing in Istanbul, but our connection to board the one for Tashkent, Uzbekistan left in an hour. That sounds like ample time, but the airport is enormous. We scored a tram that was at our gate and took Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride through clusters of travelers and around kiosks. He never stopped, his horn being his permit to break land speed records in an eight wheeled vehicle in an airport. Our plane wasn’t at the gate. It’s was in an annex field of what looked like the lost souls of Turkish Airlines. We took a bus across the main field, through a tunnel, over a bridge to the sad little collection of commuter planes bound for lesser destinations (Tashkent, Beirut, Thessaloniki etc.) Our Business Class ticket included this flight. The accommodations were the same, but Business Class was empty. After we settled in they made us eat again. It was our second breakfast in four hours. Flying into Tashkent was beige. This is not the Fertile Crescent. The airport is old and tired looking with Soviet era sterility. Everything is bleak and parched, even the decorative plants lining the walkways. Signs are in Russian, English and Uzbek. This Stan may have left Russia, but Russia hasn’t left this Stan. Fortunately, our driver, Dominic of S. Korean heritage who was born here, met us at baggage claim. We had none to claim. Remember that tight connection in Istanbul? The bags should arrive tonight. The glitch is that there is no such thing as delivering them to our hotel. We have to get them and go through customs. Our guide will be here to take us and make sure things go smoothly. I’m eager to get this sent so you know we arrived safely. Pictures won't be attached to these posts as I'm having trouble attaching them. I'll add them later if possible Toby

To Uzbekistan from New York City-

Oct. 9, 2023- NYC We’re off to parts unknown to us. That is, we can’t remember exactly where we’re going. Uzbekistan for sure. Then there are two other Stans. When we look at our itinerary it says, “ Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan.” We have to trust that it’s accurate. So many Stans. My usual disclaimer is these emails are totally my opinion. I report facts as I learn them then give them my own personal reportage. There will be typos and grammatical errors. I apologize in advance. Most emails are written after a long day of touring, read to David ( who may be awake), then sent into the ether. Feel free to share these with whomever. I like getting responses, pro or con. Now for the elephant ( or donkey) in the room. We are traveling at an inauspicious time. Uzbekistan borders Afghanistan and Pakistan, two Stans we,hopefully, won’t visit. It is a majority Muslim country. As things stand with Israel and Hamas, we hope to avoid dramatic political discourse. I’ll keep this short as we’re exhausted. TSA took exception to David’s Miralax and gave it an electronic once over. It was cleared. Our one hour flight to JFK ended with a two hour trek to baggage claim, our shuttle and our hotel. We grabbed lunch at our favorite (only) deli across the street. We wished there were more places like that where a clerk safely spoke Arabic on a phone while checking us out speaking English. Bon voyage to us. We’re looking forward to getting on the plane tomorrow and parking our brains for three weeks. I’ll write next when we’re in Tashkent. Understand, Wi-Fi may be spotty. Don’t panic if you don’t hear from me daily. I’ll do my best. Toby