Month: June 2008

Road to Dushanbe

Road sign, near Aini

We began our trip to Dushanbe, said to take about eight hours, at around 3 PM, when the share taxi that our Penjikent homestay had arranged for us departed Penjikent with one additional passenger in the front seat. Happy to have the back seat to ourselves, and after paying our 120 somoni (around USD 35) each, we drove up the Zerafshan valley, crawling up the mountains into central Tajikistan. The road was unpaved, as it would be almost all the way to Dushanbe.

Views of Zerafshan valley

About halfway through our trip, we came near the junction town of Aini, where numerous children with buckets of apricots ran up to passing cars, trying to sell the harvest. An entire bucket (4 kilograms at least?) cost about 4 somoni, or a little more than a dollar–plastic bag not included. Delicious.

Fuel stop (our driver in center)

As the sunset hours approached, the peaks got higher and we approached Anzob Pass, the highest point on the drive. A few times, we passed Chinese road crew repairing the road–a surprisingly common sight all over the world. We gave one man a lift to his camp, and learned by making use of my limited Mandarin that many of them came from Sichuan Province, where there are no doubt similarly precipitous mountain roads. We filled his helmet with apricots, which he remarked were similar to the ones back home.

Now, I had read that there was a tunnel under construction that was to replace the road over the high Anzob Pass, but I did not know anything else about the tunnel or its status. Right before sunset, we arrived at the entrance to the tunnel, amidst what looked like very active construction.

I took a quick look to the hole on the right (the one I assumed that we would be taking) and saw that it was completely flooded with water, perhaps a foot high. Just when I was thinking, “What the . . . ?” the car entered the hole on the left, which, as it turned out, was also flooded. The driver gestured to us to roll up our windows. Then began what was the strangest and scariest road experience I have ever had.

The tunnel was clearly an active construction project. There were Chinese workers visible throughout the tunnel, and machinery putting out smoke and gaseous fumes. The surface of the road was unfinished, and our taxi was driving through what seemed to vary between a few inches and almost a foot of water. The ceiling of the tunnel was leaking, and in some places the ceiling also appeared unfinished, showing just the rough-hewn mountain post-tunneling. Everything was just barely lit, every few hundred meters a side tunnel, dark and foreboding. When you could see the Chinese crew, they were breathing through cloth as filters–the tunnel was clearly not properly ventilated and the air unwholesome. We used our shirts, trying to breathe as little as possible. It was like an amusement park ride–somewhere between Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean and the Coal Mine exhibit at Chicago’s Museum of Science and Industry–and one which because of its unknown safety was truly frightening.

As it turned out, the tunnel was also exceptionally long, 7 kilometers in total, although at our slow pace and in the sinister surroundings it felt like 70. I recalled to myself a line from Big Fish, a movie I had seen. In it, the main character is fearless because he says that he knows how he dies, and this (whatever adventure he is involved in) isn’t it. While I do not have the benefit of such knowledge, I figured that it was extremely unlikely that I would actually die in a tunnel collapse in Tajikistan (after all, tunnels do not collapse too often, and, for better or for worse, there were professionals actively working in this one). (Derek notes that it wouldn’t be an extremely unsexy way to go. Returning from Laos after very nearly being trampled by a working elephant, Derek wondered what it would have been like for me to have to explain to people that he had been trampled by Laotian elephants.)

Later, I would find out that the tunnel had been built by Iranians, who had apparently botched the project so completely that the tunnel was often completely flooded. Eager to have a timely opening, the President of Tajikistan attempted to drive through it in a grand opening ceremony a few years ago, but had to turn back–despite having a snorkel on his jeep. For the last couple years, Chinese crews have been trying to fix the tunnel, but westerners we spoke to in Tajikistan believe that it is beyond repair and refuse to take it on account of safety concerns (including the horrible air inside the tunnel). But we didn’t know any of this when we were driving through the tunnel.

When we exited the tunnel the sun had already set, and we drove along cliffside roads offering what would be spectacular mountain scenery in the daylight, increasing speed down a canyon until we reached Dushanbe about 7 hours after we had departed.

photo Uzbekistan

An Uzbekistan Itinerary

As a French man told us in a Korean restaurant in Bukhara, after sharing with us shots of local vodka, Uzbekistan travel is trendy. Europeans are, believe it or not, flying in for weeklong trips, taking advantage of direct charter flight routings such as Paris to Urgench and Verona to Samarkand. Tourism is booming, countless monuments have been renovated and repainted (for better or for worse) and police checks are definitely down from what we experienced in 2003 (though petty bribery among the locals still seems to be in fashion). If you are curious about the heart of the Silk Road, the history of Tamerlane and the funny geopolitics of contemporary Central Asia, Uzbekistan is your top choice, and the best part is that this small, now reasonably well-touristed country is easy to experience in a relatively short amount of time–a great return on your vacation investment.

You can fly to Tashkent from Asia or North America through Urumqi, Beijing or Seoul, as well as through cities such as Bangkok and Delhi. (See the guest post of 6.10 for the route from Hong Kong to Uzbekistan.) From Europe, in addition to the various charter flights I have mentioned, and other scheduled flights including on the fairly reliable Uzbekistan Airways, BMI travels from London and Air France from Paris to Tashkent. Uzbekistan is horizontally long, and so the best plan is to, after arriving in Tashkent, take one domestic flight to Urgench and then head back overland to Tashkent, sightseeing on the way. You could do it in the other direction, but we feel strongly that the order below is the optimal one.

1 – Arrive in Tashkent
2 – Morning flight to Urgench; taxi to Khiva; Khiva sightseeing
3 – Khiva sightseeing; possible half-day trip to see the ancient castles of Khorezm
4 – Taxi to Bukhara (up to 6-7 hours through the Kyzylkum desert)
5 – Bukhara
6 – Bukhara
7 – Morning train to Samarkand (4 hours); Samarkand sightseeing
8 – Samarkand
9 – Samarkand (including a long visit to the Siob Bazaar)
10 – Train to Tashkent; evening or next day, fly out of Tashkent

If you have one more day, you should spend it in Bukhara, which is easily the highlight of the country, combining magnificent structures and a strollable old city, or on a day trip from Samarkand to Shakrisabz, Tamerlane’s hometown. If you have two extra days, do both.

photo Tajikistan Uzbekistan

Crossing Borders Overland

Post author By pkk
Post date June 17, 2008

One of the pleasures and trials of long-distance overland travel is crossing borders overland. Having just crossed the Uzbek/Tajik border between Samarkand and Penjikent, I thought that it would be fun to do a post on the topic.

I imagine the first borders that I crossed overland, like most Americans, are the U.S./Mexico and U.S./Canada borders. These are pretty simple–there are essentially no formalities as you leave the U.S., and only a couple questions and proof of nationality when you re-enter. The Mexicans and Canadians are pretty relaxed. These borders are usually done in a car, though, and so don’t present much of a challenge–you just drive through a series of booths.

More often, crossing borders overland requires changes of vehicles and walking. The transportation that you take to the border usually drops you off before the immigration/customs complex of the country that you are leaving, where after completing formalities you are forced to walk through the no-man’s land to the immigration/customs complex of the country that you are entering. This walk is generally manageable, but can be long (requiring special transportation) or fraught with the tension of heavy military presence (or in the case of many borders, mines–but as long as you don’t stray off the road…).

The way from Uzbekistan to Tajikistan? Despite poor relations between the two countries, we found the crossing trivially easy. Our Uzbek taxi dropped us off at the Uzbek border post, where the procedures were fairly simple (customs, with x-ray, and then immigration). We lugged our bags through about fifty meters of no-man’s land to the Tajik facilities (which, relatively makeshift, revealed the relative poverty of the country–borders are often the best places for recognizing dramatic changes in economic development, including especially by experiencing the change in road quality and maintenance, which can be drastic). We were met there by the Tajik officials, who were among the friendliest and most welcoming immigrations and customs personnel we had ever encountered. We were invited to sit down on a wooden bench shaded by a tree while the immigrations officer gathered our passports and headed for his small wooden shack, explaining “five minutes” in a cheery voice. He returned soon with our stamped passports, and then chatted with us, giving us a proud briefing on some of Tajikistan’s natural sites, including an entire mountain made of salt located near his home town. After a similarly pleasant encounter with a customs official, we were on our way.

The first transport in a country is often the most troubling, pricing-wise, because border taxis are keen to rip off a tourist who has just arrived and has no sense of prices or distances. If the taxis work together, the tourist is left with no choice but to pay inflated prices, since the nearest town is often miles away. At the Uzbek/Tajik border was a cheap shared minibus to Penjikent which managed to fit us in before leaving–perfect.

After some wandering around Penjikent looking for lodging, and refusing an empty Soviet-era apartment that was offered to us for way too much money, we ended up at the comfortable homestay of Mr. Nematov Niyozkul (listed in the Lonely Planet, although we somewhat fortuitously happened upon him), who was incredibly helpful in arranging not only our onward transportation (Penjikent to Dushanbe, post to come) but also our OVIR registrations (required within 72 hours of entering Tajikistan, a relic from the Soviet era).

Mosaic (one of many), Penjikent

One story: Our most memorable border crossing was between the United Arab Emirates and Oman in 2003. We had just flown into Dubai on Emirates and taken a bus to the city of Al Ain in order to cross the border into Oman. I believe the border situation there has changed since 2003, but when we were there Al Ain (the UAE town) and Buraimi (the Omani town across the border) were completely joined, an invisible line dividing the two but with no physical barrier–you could walk freely between the two. If you wanted to travel deeper into Oman, however, you needed to go to the UAE immigration post that was located inconveniently a couple dozen miles to the west, officially exit the UAE, and then complete Omani immigration procedures at the Omani facilities a few dozen miles deeper into Oman. Wanting to have all our paperwork in order, we hired a taxi to take us to the UAE border post.

We were caught off guard, however, when the UAE official (who was an employee of the Abu Dhabi emirate, of which Al Ain is a part) demanded that we pay an exit fee. We had traveled to many countries, and never encountered an exit fee (although we have elsewhere, since). We didn’t even have to pay anything to enter the country–now we had to pay something to get out? We wanted to see some sort of documentation confirming the law and the amount (which was fairly small), but were met with gruffness. (The official, from Abu Dhabi, did not exactly have the tourist-friendly attitude that one encounters at Dubai International Airport.) We got into a small argument with the man, and, when refused his name and identification number, which we wanted for certainty that the proper procedures were being followed, Derek took his picture as a record. (This had worked very well with corrupt Uzbek police earlier on the trip.) Now, of course, it is usually not permitted to take pictures at borders, and Derek had just, we imagined, broken a law. The official seemed more than happy to exploit this as he called the guards.

Uncertain what would happen to us, we decided to flee, and, without our exit stamp, walked quickly across to the Omani side of the border (where there was nothing but desert, the Omani border post being dozens of miles away). The UAE border guards asked us to return to the UAE to talk to their superior, who refused to talk with us on the Omani side of the border, but not knowing what would happen to us, we stayed put in Oman, finally walking into the desert and hitching with a Pakistani driver on the Omani desert road back to Buraimi, where our luggage was waiting in our hotel room. What to do next? We decided to proceed to Oman without our UAE exit stamp, with the hope that the Omani immigration officials would not notice or care, and that the UAE immigration officials would not notice or care on our way back into the country. We ended up being half right–on our way into the UAE, we were asked why we didn’t properly exit the country. But all was okay, in the end.

When leaving the UAE through Dubai International Airport a couple weeks later, we asked the immigration officials whether there was some sort of “exit fee” when leaving the UAE overland through Al Ain. We were told that there wasn’t, and they asked us to write a brief letter explaining what had happened to us, so that they could investigate.

faces photo Uzbekistan

Faces of Uzbekistan

Some portraits from Uzbekistan. My only comment here, something I would like to discuss at greater length in a future post, is that two of the biggest, most important cities of Uzbekistan, Bukhara and Samarkand, are actually culturally and ethnically Tajik, and so a lot of the people pictured below are probably Tajik-ethnic Uzbek nationals.

Uzbek men in Uzbek hats

Young boy in Uzbek hat. This kid was running a shaved ice stand, little boy serving other little boys.

An aksakal, or white-beard, and his wife, Bukhara

A Bukharan artisan and vendor

Beautiful gold teeth–a common Central Asian ornamentation

Also central to Central Asia–bread

Some non-Tajik minorities:

A couple Russian girls. Russians have been “left behind” in Central Asian countries in varying numbers, although many are choosing to emigrate to Russia.

An ethnic Korean woman selling what I believe Uzbeks would call salads, but to me look like Korean banchan. Most of the Central Asian countries have an ethnic Korean population, from a WWII-era migration from the Soviet Far East (near Korea) to Central Asia forced by Stalin.

A “gypsy,” belonging to a community in Samarkand that is believed to be the descendants of slaves that Tamerlane brought back from India. Note the tribal tattoos.

photo Uzbekistan

Tamerlane’s Samarkand

Samarkand is one of those relatively rare places that we almost instinctively know the name of, even if we have no idea where it is or where we heard of it–somehow, it is a part of our collective consciousness. Now Uzbekistan’s second-largest city, Samarkand’s history is ancient, going back at least to Sogdian times (post on the Sogdians to come), but its greatest era was when it became the capital of Tamerlane’s Central Asian empire.

Amir Temur, known to the western world as Tamerlane (Timur the Lame, and indeed the remains in his tomb confirmed that one of his legs was not well), was born in 1336 in the city now called Shakhrisabz south of Samarkand and was said to be a descent of Genghis Khan. In his young adulthood he became known for his successes as a military leader, and eventually rose to head the local Turkic tribes. Using Samarkand as his capital and base, he led campaigns in all compass directions, reaching as far as now Turkey and Georgia in the west, now India in the east and Moscow to the north. Tamerlane was preparing an attack on Ming China when he died, almost 70 years old.

From the wealth of his various conquests (from Delhi it is said that he carried away 90 elephants’ loads of precious stones), and by conscripting artisans from far-away lands, he built up his capital, leaving it the city of architectural marvels that it is today. Tamerlane has become a national icon for Uzbekistan since independence, and Tamerlane sights in Samarkand have been recipients of a great deal of recent renovation.

Bibi Khanum Mosque, Samarkand, named after Tamerlane’s Chinese wife

Shah-i-Zinda, Samarkand. This necropolis, built near the grave of a cousin of Mohammed is who said to have brought Islam to Central Asia, contains mausoleums of many family members and descendents of Tamerlane.

Registan, Samarkand (three facing madrasas built by Tamerlane’s successors)

Remnant of the enormous portal to Tamerlane’s summer palace Ak Saray, Shakhrisabz

Tamerlane was more famous for destruction and plunder than true empire-building, and his empire did not last long after his death. His descendent Babur, however, would go on to found the Mughal dynasty of India. Tamerlane and Babur were in a sense the last of the many great Mongol or Turkic conquerors who swept out of the Central Asian plains to control huge swaths of Asia–perhaps one day the Central Asians will unite again and create a new empire!

Crypt originally built for but unused by Tamerlane, Shakhrisabz

Gur-i Emir, Tamerlane’s mausoleum in Samarkand

Iran photo Uzbekistan

Avicenna

Post author By pkk
Post date June 13, 2008

The Islamic world’s contribution to the sciences is great, especially during the European Middle Ages when much western classical knowledge had been lost or forgotten. Unfortunately, I do not know too much about Muslim scientists and mathematicians, but I thought I would write this brief post on Avicenna, whose prominence is attested by the fact that his name is recognizable to us, even if we do not know who he is. Avicenna’s life is not only a reminder of the significance of scientists from the Middle East in the history of western science but also a portrait of the Persian world in the tenth and eleventh centuries.

Abdulla ibn Sina was born in 980 near Bukhara, now Uzbekistan, which was at that time the capital of the Samanid empire (see my post of 6.12). It is said that Avicenna had memorized the Koran by age 7 and learned mathematics from an Indian living in Bukhara. (Unfortunately, there are no specific Avicenna-related sites within the city of Bukhara, the city having been destroyed by the Mongols in the intervening years.)

Learning the art and science of medicine, Avicenna became a royal physician, using the royal library in Bukhara to advance his knowledge, until the Samanid empire came to an end in the beginning of the eleventh century. Avicenna wandered westward seeking the patronage of various ministers and royalty, through the extent of the eastern Persian world from Bukhara to Urgench (in now Uzbekistan) to Merv (now Turkmenistan) to Nishapur to Gorgan (both now eastern Iran). For a while he was settled in the city of Rey, near modern Tehran, and the town of Qazvin nearby, until finally he became a royal physician in the city of Hamadan. In 1037 he died in Hamadan, where a modern tomb was erected for him in 2000.

During his lifetime Avicenna wrote literally hundreds of works on numerous subjects, but his most famous legacy is The Canon of Medicine, which compiled not only the fruits of his own experimentation but the knowledge of everyone from classical Greek to Indian scientists coming before him. The Canon of Medicine was used as a medical textbook in Europe into the 18th century, and Avicenna is considered a father of modern medicine, laying out the principles of the experimental method in clinical trials.

Other scientists of Persian cultural extraction who were from now Uzbekistan include al-Beruni, a 10th-11th century scientist who calculated the size of the earth and its distance to the sun and moon with startling accuracy, and al-Khorezmi, an 8th-9th century mathematician whose name survives in the word “algorithm” and from the title of whose book the word “algebra” is derived.

Al-Khorezmi statue, Khiva

Monument to al-Beruni, Urgench

photo Uzbekistan

Samanids

Post author By pkk
Post date June 12, 2008

This post can be read as part of a series of an overview of Iranian history–please refer to my posts of 5.10, 5.11, 5.19, 5.27 and 6.1.

***

After the Arab conquest of now Iran in the seventh century, the Persian world, with its great history and traditions, became a mere portion of the Arab Empire, which in its first hundred years was led from Damascus with a general attitude of Arab supremacy over the conquered peoples, despite in many cases such peoples’ richer and more ancient civilizations. While Persian influence grew stronger in the Arab domains during the Abbasid caliphate of Baghdad, credit for true Persian revival, it may be said, belongs to the Samanid dynasty (819-999), which ruled over Central Asia and the eastern parts of now Iran from its capital in Bukhara in now Uzbekistan.

The Samanid dynasty, despite its relatively brief reign, is responsible for a considerable portion of historical Iranian culture, including the works of Rudaki, a poet considered a founder of Persian literature (Iran’s Shakespeare, if you will), and Ferdosi, whose epic Shahnameh is the Iliad of Iran. The Samanids also fostered a blossoming of the sciences, including the career of Avicenna [post on Avicenna and other scientists of the era to come].

To finish this post, I wanted to share with you some photographs of my favorite building in Uzbekistan and one of my favorite buildings anywhere–the 10th century mausoleum of Ismail Samani, perhaps the greatest of the Samanid rulers (referenced in my post of 6.3). This building alone of Samanid Bukhara survived the near total destruction of the Mongol conquest, some say because it was covered by sand, and thankfully so.

[Addendum: The post-independence government of Tajikistan, which uniquely of the Central Asian Stans is an Iranian ethnic rather than a Turkic ethnic state, is actively relating its origin back to the Samanids, the Samanid dynasty being perhaps the most brilliant flowering of Eastern Iranian civilization, and now not only does a prominent statue of Ismail Samani stand in a central square in Dushanbe but the Tajik currency is called the Samani. However, the Samanid capital of Bukhara and another Central Asian center of Iranian/Tajik culture, Samarkand, are within the state of Uzbekistan–post on ethnicity in Central Asia to come.]

photo Uzbekistan

Bukhara Redux

Post author By pkk
Post date June 11, 2008

2003

2008

As we grow better traveled, we find ourselves returning to places we’ve been. Second and third visits give you the benefit of familiarity, an opportunity to examine a place in greater depth with perhaps greater knowledge/context, and the perspective of time. I thought worthwhile a post comparing our visit to Bukhara in 2003 with our visit in 2008, with these topics in mind. (Cf. my post of 3.6 on changes in Varkala, India over the same period.)

Perhaps the nicest, most immediate feeling of returning to a place is familiarity. All of us are to a certain extent creatures of habit, and there is something comforting about seeing a place you know, as long as your prior experiences were positive. Having loved Bukhara on our first visit, it felt more personal and charming on our second. Working our way through the streets, we felt a closer connection, because we ourselves had already had history in the place. We recalled memories from our prior trip, where we had stayed, what we had seen, whom we had met. We tried to figure out where we had bought our embroideries, where we had changed money. Most fun of all, we tracked down a girl who had sold us some souvenirs in 2003 and impressed us so much with her charm and smarts that we had often thought of her in the intervening years. She was still there, selling souvenirs, and we spent a great deal of time chatting with her and her friends, and finally inviting them to a dinner out. (See photographs at the top of this post to see how she matured!)

Our favorite building in Bukhara, the Ismail Samani Mausoleum, thankfully unchanged

Repeat visits also provide an opportunity to see things you didn’t on an earlier visit, either because you didn’t have time or because you didn’t recognize what was before you. On our past trip to Bukhara, we knew of the historic Jewish community but didn’t seek out any specific Jewish sites. Having been introduced to the Bukharan Jewish community in New York CIty since, and seen Jewish areas in India and Syria, I am far more interested now in discovering Jewish sites, in particular those that are geographically remote or have been largely abandoned by their Jewish former inhabitants. This time, not only are we staying in a bed and breakfast in a formerly Jewish home, but we tracked down a local synagogue (unfortunately closed when we visited) and a Jewish cemetery. I wondered how many of the people buried had relatives living in Queens.

Interior, Akbar House, a former Jewish home

Jewish Synagogue

Jewish Cemetery

Other things may have been before you the whole time, but you recognize it because you’re a little older and more experienced. In 2003, it wasn’t immediately apparent to me exactly how unreligious Uzbeks are, because I had nothing to compare them to, my experience in Islamic countries being limited. Now, especially after traveling in Iran, it is almost shocking to see how secular Uzbekistan is, its mosques and madrasas still for the most part standing empty as museums or filled with souvenirs for sale, rather than being places for worship and religious study. Being part of the former Soviet Union, alcohol flows relatively freely. You rarely hear the call to prayer. On the other hand, some Islamic traditions remain–but we had not identified them as Islamic before. The headscarves that women wear here seemed to us in 2003 more a secular cultural habit than a religious requirement–but having come from Iran it is clear to us now that the covering is intended as a sign of Muslim modesty, not just a fashion statement. The bearded men also carry a special meaning, of religious piety, that was perhaps less obvious before.

The layout of the old city of Bukhara also meant something to us that it hadn’t before. Bukhara contains these standalone structures called “trading domes.” In our first visit we found them incredibly romantic, as relics of the silk road trade. The trading domes are still used to sell merchandise, and as Derek saw once in some old photographs the merchandise is surprisingly the same–people back then wanted to buy in Bukhara items quite similar to what tourists want to buy today, crafts, luxuries, souvenirs. (Having recently been to India and Iran, it was fun trying to identify where various items for sale had originated. There were Kashmiri embroideries similar to what we had seen in Kerala and Iranian handicrafts identical to what is on sale in Esfahan’s bazaar. Goods from Iran and India being sold in Bukhara is of course nothing new.) On this visit, we even changed money (with a shopkeeper) in the moneychangers’ dome, the bank in the old city having burned down. But having visited Iran, and seen bazaars that are intact and active, we understand now that Bukhara’s trading domes must have been mere pieces, junctions if you will, in what must have been a huge bazaar network that stretched through much of the heart of the old city. Bukhara’s bazaars must have been systematically destroyed, probably in the early twentieth century, leaving behind just the domes.

Trading islands, the second sadly with a parking lot in front.

In my post of 3.6, I considered how Varkala, India had changed from our visit in 2003 to 2008. I am surprised to see the extent to which the rise in international tourism has affected even Uzbekistan, a country in the middle of the middle of Asia and one that has fallen considerably out of favor with the west, politically, since 2003 (due to the 2005 Andijon massacre). When we were in Uzbekistan in 2003, there were of course tourists but quite few–a handful of overland backpackers and maybe two or three tour groups of elderly Europeans. The number of European tour groups has expanded dramatically, and added on now are casual vacationers, flying in and out of Uzbekistan on a week or two-week trip. Some French men that we ran into explained that Uzbekistan is “quite trendy” in France, and we were told that there are flights from Paris to Urgench (to facilitate a one-way Khiva to Tashkent trip) and, get this, from Verona to Samarkand. Along with the tourism has come some unattractive development–big new hotels surprisingly close to the center of the old town and some ugly life-size plastic camels located in the central square. But it’s hard to begrudge a place as special as Bukhara its popularity–let’s just hope that they keep a reign on new buildings in the old city lest the city lose its special charm. Only time will tell whether Bukhara will remain frozen in our minds in its current state or if we will find an excuse to visit yet again.

guest Uzbekistan

Guest Post: Hong Kong to Uzbekistan

Post author By pkk
Post date June 10, 2008
3 Comments on Guest Post: Hong Kong to Uzbekistan

by Shan

It is not easy to travel from Hong Kong to Uzbekistan. Hong Kong travel agents were bewildered when asked about flights to Tashkent, and the airline with the most international flights to Tashkent, Uzbekistan Airways, has an incomprehensible website. Luckily, I found www.farecompare.com/schedules/index.html and www.amadeus.net via google, which I highly recommend for anyone wanting to research flying options from point A to point B.

To maximize my vacation days, I needed to schedule departing flights on or right before the weekend. There are direct flights to Tashkent from Beijing, Seoul and Bangkok, all of which in turn have direct flights from Hong Kong, but those flights depart in the early or middle part of the week. On Saturday, Tashkent does have flights arriving from Urumqi. Although Hong Kong no longer has direct flights to Urumqi, Guangzhou has two flights to Urumqi on Saturdays, and Hong Kong has frequent train service to Guangzhou. Eureka!

This itinerary seemed like a great idea when I figured it out months ago, but as the trip neared, the painfulness of it all weighed heavily. Now that I’ve completed the trip to Uzbekistan (and back), I’ve concluded that it’s a journey of a lifetime and once is enough. Here’s a summary of how I met up with Paul and Derek:

June 7, 2008
Kowloon-Guangzhou via Train
Dep 10:32 Hung Hom, Kowloon, Hong Kong
Arr 12:13 Guangzhou East Train Station

I assumed this would be the easiest leg of my trip – catch a taxi to Hung Hom station and hop on the train – but it turned out to be the hardest. Hong Kong woke to some of the worst rain it’s had all year, and the black thunderstorm warning and flash floods meant there were no taxis to be found. Normally it would take a minute or two to find an empty cab on Kennedy Road, but after waiting for 20 minutes in the pounding rain, I gave up. I was going to descend the escarpment onto Star Street to get to the subway station at Three Pacific Place, but water gushed waist-high from the drainage gutter onto the pedestrian walkway. Fortunately, the other set of stairs down to Star Street was passable. I finally made it to Three Pacific Place, hopped onto the red line to Tsim Sha Tsui, transferred to the East Rail line and rode the one stop to Hung Hom. As I sat down in the train, I noticed that my duffel bag and backpack were drenched from the rain (as well as my clothes), but I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Upon arrival at Guangzhou East, my backpack and duffel bag were screened through the security machine and subsequently hand-searched. The security guards looked suspiciously at my travel books, but let me pass eventually. I’m not sure if this was Olympics-related, but the immigration officials said that “certain” printed items are not permitted in China (another passenger had her Hong Kong Chinese-language newspaper confiscated). I had flown to Beijing earlier that week, and no one bothered about checking bags on arrival at the swanky new airport, so presumably the inspection was due to overly zealous or bored immigration officials at Guangzhou East.

Guangzhou-Urumqi on China Southern Airlines
Dep 15:20 Baiyun Airport Guangzhou
Arr 20:45 Urumqi Airport

The cab ride to the airport only took half an hour, and I whiled away the hours waiting for my flight eating litchis sold at the airport and reading about Uzbekistan. Advice for all flying within China: absolutely no liquids of any kind are permitted in carry-on bags, unless it’s make-up. Unfortunately, I failed to persuade the security guard that my travel-size shampoo, Purell (my saddest parting) and toothpaste were make-up, but at least I got to keep the sunscreen and pore cleanser. In addition (and this held true for the Beijing, Guangzhou and Urumqi airports I visited that week), everyone received a very hands-on pat-down after walking through the metal detector. The Urumqi flight was half empty and while 2/3 of the passengers were assigned seats side-by-side in the back of the plane, for some reason the other 1/3 of us got a whole row (3 seats) each. The Boeing 757 plane seemed brand-new and the flight attendants courteously welcomed us on board with a count-down to the number of days until the Olympic opening ceremony, while reminding us of the sad plight of the Szechuan earthquake victims. In contrast to the Chinese language greeting, the English language greeting consisted of a one-sentence welcome aboard!

Urumqi-Tashkent via China Southern Airlines
Dep 23:50 Urumqi Airport
Arr 23:51 Vostochny Airport Tashkent (3-hour time difference between Urumqi and Tashkent)

Seeing the hordes of Turkmen bound for Ashgabat and Uzbeks bound for Tashkent at Urumqi’s international terminal was a sight. If there were a weight limit for checked baggage, no one seemed to care. Every passenger checked bags at least twice his or her weight, wrapped in yellow duct tape for extra protection. Among the goodies leaving China: electric fans, ironing boards, toys, pot & pan sets, bolts of fabric, lucky bamboo, stereos, televisions and blankets. Despite the lateness of the flight, the ride was like a big party for the Uzbeks on board, many of whom seemed to know each other. I loved that when asked, “rice or noodles” for the in-flight meal, many passengers responded with “rice AND noodles” and that the flight attendants obliged. Arrival in Tashkent was truly miserable. We descended onto the tarmac and crammed into two buses, to be transported to immigration. I was supposed to get a visa-on-arrival, but the booth was unmanned and the lights turned off. Clueless, I added myself to the huddle of humanity trying to squeeze through immigration in the largest blob possible. While waiting, I chatted up a fellow passenger from China who was working on a Huawei project in Tashkent. He complained about how outrageous and uncouth the Uzbeks were for never lining up, which made me wonder if he was truly from China. An hour later, when I finally made it to the front of the line, the immigration official pointed to the unlit visa-on-arrival booth and refused to deal with me any further. I had no choice but to return to see if the booth was now manned. Although the lights were off, fortunately the guy was just back from his break. I got the visa without any difficulty, and US$131 poorer, got back in the passport control line. Thirty minutes and much aggressive elbowing later, I finally made it through immigration, only to wait in the customs line. Thirty minutes later I was at the front of the line, having my bags screened (just like in Guangzhou), this time without any hands-on rummaging of my books. I finally exited the worst airport experience ever at 2:20 a.m.

June 8, 2008
Tashkent-Urgench via Uzbekistan Airways
Dep 8:30 Tashkent
Arr 10:10 Urgench

After a three hour (3-6 a.m.) nap at Tashkent’s supposedly finest hotel (which would be the equivalent of a 3-star hotel in any Chinese city), I woke up early to catch my Urgench flight. The Uzbekistan Airways plane was grim. Some seats leaned all the way forward or backward, some seatbelts would not buckle and flies buzzed everywhere. We waited on the hot tarmac, without air conditioning, for about thirty minutes, and just when we were all thoroughly soaked in our own sweat, the plane took off. A short hour later, we descended and I saw Derek and Paul waiting outside the Urgench airport gates. Hurrah – journey over.

faces photo Turkmenistan

Faces of Turkmenistan

Some portraits from our brief stay in Turkmenistan:

One way of categorizing countries may be countries where you can take pictures of police and soldiers and countries you cannot. Surprisingly, for a place reputed to be a police state, this Turkmen officer permitted Derek to take his picture. I believe the exaggerated brim must be a feature of the old Soviet police uniform, as we also recall it from our 2003 visit to Uzbekistan.

These girls must have been on their way to some sort of cultural performance. The Turkmen government, headed by former president Niyazov, has very aggressively pursued national cultural/heritage-type projects in an effort to develop a strong sense of national identity for the newly independent republic. Most famous among these is Niyazov’s book the Ruhnama, an epic telling the (legendary) history of the Turkmen people from ancient times to present, which is compulsory reading in Turkmen schools.