First Day in Uzbekistan—Conducting a Writing Workshop at the University in Tashkent

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Bombay-Tashkent

First Day in Uzbekistan—Conducting a Writing Workshop at the University in Tashkent

     Salaam-Aleiqum from Tashkent!

      I am in Tashkent! Oh my God! Who would ever believe, when I left my home in the United States, eight months ago, that I would be in Uzbekistan? Seriously...I hadn’t a clue. And yet here I am today in this fabled country about which the 13th century traveler Marco Polo wrote. And here I am, about 800 years later, following in his footsteps on the famed Silk Route and recounting my own encounters and my own experiences. It is simply uncanny.

Flight to Tashkent:

     So when I set my alarm and awoke at 5.00 am in my studio in Bandra, I have to admit that, seasoned solo traveler though I am, I felt a twinge of nervousness. I always do when I am off to a country whose language I do not know...the sense of being unable to communicate, should one ever need help or guidance, is still pretty daunting to me. Anyway, I decided to ignore the naughty butterflies in my tummy and look upon my adventure ahead with excitement.

     The Uber driver came on schedule and I was driving through the quiet sleeping streets of Bandra to arrive at Sahar International Airport in exactly 20 minutes—hard to believe! Check-in went off smoothly although the traffic assistant informed me that most passengers had checked in already and there were neither window nor aisle seats left. I shuddered to think of what my journey would be like if I was sandwiched between two hefty men! With nothing to be done about it, I hoped to exchange seats with someone on the aircraft. I found out the majority of the passengers were Punjabi and Bihari laborers who do manual labor in the former Soviet Republics—I had encountered some of them previously who were home-bond from Georgia on an Aeroflot flight from Moscow to Bombay, many years ago. They are generally loud and loutish and not the most pleasant traveling companions.

     I was flying Uzbekistan Airlines for the first time in my life and I have to say I did not expect much. Having once flown on Aeroflot (the airline of Russia), I could only expect the worst. At that time, the entire experience had been awful—hostesses who seemed incapable of cracking a smile were surly and unresponsive, pathetic food: they served a shrimp salad that had about two shrimp (smaller than pennies) and absolutely no frills of any kind—not even in-flight entertainment on one that stretched for hours. It is probably one of the worst flights in my memory. 

     This one was amazingly good. (While seated at the gate, I pulled out the blue cheese sandwich I had made the previous night and ate it as I had started to feel hungry—it was 6.45 am and I had been up since 5.00 pm and was still on an empty stomach?.) First of all, boarding began bang on time. I have never seen an airline’s ground crew work so efficiently and so quickly. We had all boarded in about 20 minutes and it was a packed flight. The cabin crew were young, energetic and very willing to help and work. I requested the man who came in to occupy the window seat to permit me to use it instead and he agreed immediately and willingly! So, you can just imagine how relieved I felt. 

     Next, the flight was bang on time. We taxied for just a short time and then simply took off. There were movies on personal screens but I had downloaded a book from my library (Jane Green: Falling—A Love Story) and a few magazines and I intended to spend the next four and a half hour while airborne wrapped in some reading. Service began a whole hour after take-off (thank heavens I had eaten a sandwich—I also carry energy bars, cashew nuts and small cookies when I travel as I simply cannot stomach the idea of being hungry while on the road. These were in my back pack and I had been nibbling steadily on my nuts). They offered drinks in the first round—I had a glass of orange juice. In the second round, a whole hour later, they offered hot breakfast—there was no choice and everyone was given a vegetarian breakfast: there were masala dosas with sambhar, a bread roll to be eaten with butter and jam, a sponge cup cake and fresh fruit. I ate the dosas with sambhar and fruit. Chaos ensued when they did yet another round—this time offering coffee or tea (I merely had water) as passengers wanted to use the rest room and the trolley carts were in the way for ages!

      Anyway, my window seat allowed me to see that although Tashkent is directly north of Bombay and the flight ought to have taken no more than three and a half to four hours, we were heading far out to sea. From the flight plan, I realized that we were not going to fly above Pakistani air space and instead would be making a detour. We’d be flying as far as the Persian Gulf and then cutting sharply north to fly above Afghanistan. And below me, there was simply nothing but sea and then later nothing but desert. It was just mile after mile of barren brown earth, sometimes in the form of flat plains with undulating sand dunes, at other times brown mountain ranges. When we flew above clouds, I lost myself in my novel which I am actually finding quite interesting.

A Bit About Jane Green:

      I should digress at this stage and let you know that this novel is clearly autobiographical although the author has changed names. Jane Green is a British writer who came to the USA to work in international banking (which she hated). She worked hard and saved hard for five years and then threw up her career to find herself in Westport, Connecticut, in my neighboring town, where she rented a dilapidated house on Compo Beach Road from a single Dad with a young son. I am guessing that the rest of the book will deal with their love story—for Jane, dear reader, married her landlord.

      I had the good fortune of meeting Jane and her husband at the home of Richard Curtis (the British film-maker) and his long-time girlfriend Emma Freud when they were living in New York City, about four years ago. At that time, Emma decided to have a fund-raising dinner that she would cook herself at her home in Greenwich Village.  Llew and I had signed up for it (when she put the word out on Twitter) and since I am such a huge fan of the films they make together (Love Actually, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill, About Time), I had one of the happiest evenings of my life. Jane and her husband had also signed up and we’d spent a very nice evening together with other strangers with whom we all got on so well.  Later on, I had the good fortune of meeting Jane again, at the Pequot Library, when she had been invited to speak about her work. She is as engaging a speaker as she is a writer and we really hit it off.  It is great fun to read about her own love story and to be able to picture the man she describes in the book as Dominic.

Back to the Flight:

    The flight touched down right on time. Tashkent, from the air, looked like a spruce city. The airport is huge and beautifully sign posted in English and Uzbek. I picked up my small case from the conveyor belt and was very pleased to see, while I was waiting for it, that there was a man with a placard with the American flag and ‘US Embassy’ written on it, waiting, apparently, for me! Within seconds, I was meeting Andrei who spoke perfect English and led me to a waiting car with diplomatic number plates that belonged to the US Embassy in Uzbekistan—my first ever ride in a diplomatic car (I was excited).

     Driving though the streets of Tashkent, I was not surprised (being that it was a very important city of the former USSR) that it was so well laid out with incredibly broad boulevards, traffic that moved in an orderly fashion (with no horns to be heard at all!) and very pleasant temperatures. Sadly, it had rained and was still drizzling as we covered the distance to the Embassy and got there in about half an hour. 

Arrival at the US Embassy in Tashkent:

     I went through the excruciatingly thorough security checks that allowed me to enter the well-guarded fortress of the US Embassy in Uzbekistan. Saida, my contact and the person who has facilitated my travel and stay in this country, came out to meet me. I was only able to take my wallet inside--my case and my backpack were retained at the entrance. My passport was checked umpteen times and copies of it were made. The personnel manning these outposts are young US military chaps wearing fatigues and crew cuts. They were incredibly polite and respectful. 

     Saida arrived to meet me. We had an affectionate reunion (I had last met her in Cochin at the Fulbright conference in February) and she immediately took me off to the cafeteria for lunch as I was starving. I had a half serving of chicken with pasta and a small salad and felt ready to take on my afternoon’s duties. Saida took me around the premises of the Fulbright offices, the Embassy offices, etc. so that I met a number of officials and support staff including the Public Affairs Officer, John Brown. By then the Travel Desk staff would have arrived from their lunch break and would be able to talk to me about my tourism plans that I hoped would include Samarkhand and Bukhara. 

     When the travel desk assistant finally arrived, she took my dates for desired travel and said she would work out a travel plan for me. It is a pity that I have worked on this trip at such short notice because everything is proving to be a challenge, given the paucity of time in which I have to schedule them. Anyway, if I can do Samarkhand and Bukhara, I will be very pleased indeed.  She told me to leave $500 with Saida and that she would use it to pay for the tickets. It seems that she is offering me a package tour that will include hotels and guides and local transport. It is something I am rather pleased about as time is short and I do not want to have to waste time, on this whirlwind tour, figuring out  where to go or how to get there.

    

Off to the University:

     I was introduced to a man called Azam who works at the US Embassy and who happens to be a published poet, novelist and translator. He works very hard to bring international scholars, creative artists and specialists of various kind to his country that is trying hard to create a national identity in the wake of its independence in 1991 from Russia. 

Getting Registered at the Grand Mir Hotel:

     He is to drive me to the University where I will conduct the first session of my Writing Workshop—but first, we need to stop off at a hotel called the Grand Mir Hotel so that I could carry out the Registration procedure that every foreigner into Uzbekistan is expected to do within 72 hours of landing in this country. This, in addition, to your visa (which, by the way, I discovered, could be purchased on arrival in Tashkent  if one’s stay is no more than five days). I am required to pay the equivalent of $2 per day for my stay in this country. I will be here for 7 days, so I paid $14. I am given a little card that I place in my passport on the visa page. Foreigners can be asked for identification papers at any point—so one is always required to have one’s passport at hand. I am also taken by Azam to a Currency Exchange counter at the hotel where I change $100 and get the ridiculous amount of 844,000 som which is the local currency. One dollar gets you 8,400 som approximately. So I pay for my registration in som and still have a wallet that is bulging with paper money! 

Spying the Towering Earthquake Memorial:

      We leave the hotel swiftly and, with Adam at the wheel, drive to the university. I really am getting to see the city on these very pleasant drives. We pass by the famous Earthquake Memorial which commemorates an earthquake that flattened the city in 1966–just a little after Prime Minister Shastri of India visited the city to sign an agreement pact with Pakistan’s Ayub Khan in a deal that was brokered by the former Soviet Union. Soviet engineers were hastily summoned and the rebuilding of the city began. This explains the ultra-modern broad boulevards and the super metro system (of which I intend to get a taste before I leave). I understand that it is as impressive and glorious as the one in St. Petersburg in Russia which I had ridden—even if it is less historic. I also learned that Azam has studied Creative Writing at the University of Iowa which has probably the world’s best-known Creative Writing Program—its grads include the late Bharati Mukherjee and the author of Cutting for Stone, Abraham Vargese. 

     Earlier I had passed by the Ilkholm Theater, a massive white Greek Temple-like structure where modern-day ballet and opera are staged, in park-like surroundings. We also passed by a striking new mosque—Minor (pronounced Mee-naur) Mosque—that is eye-catching for the ceramic blue tile work that is contrasted against pure white walls. It is also one of the city’s prime attractions. 

      

Arrival at Alisher Navoiy University—Uzbekistan’s Language and Literature Center of Learning:    

     When we parked at the university, we walked a short way to the building where I had a huge reception committee waiting for me headed by the strikingly lovely Nozilya Nomurodova, Head of the Department of Philology and Linguistics, who had extended the invitation to me to conduct the Writing Workshop on her campus. There was not much time to waste (as we were already running late), so they whisked me up to the classroom where about a hundred students would be taking my first class.

     I was introduced by Azam and then left to take over. I used my PowerPoint presentation to explain the pattern of my own workshop and prepare the students for what would lie ahead. I was amazed at how formally they were dressed: the guys were all in jackets, the ladies had blazers too and wore lavender satin bow ties! Later I was told that it was part of the dress code! I loved it. They are also very fashionable. They carry knock-offs of designer bags (Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton ) and wear ankle booties. I am thrilled to see everyone in winter coats and parkas—it has been too long since I have been away from cool weather and I am enjoying the fact that it is so bracing after Bombay’s recent mugginess. The class is also amazingly ethically diverse. I see students of every skin color and facial appearance—from Russian Caucasians (blond hair, rosy skin) to people from Iran (fair skin, dark hair and eyes) and olive-skinned women who could be from anywhere—from Egypt to India. The arrival of the Mongol hordes in the reign of Ghenghis Khan caused a great deal of inter-racial marriage and a lot of the people here have the fair skin and slant eyes of Far Easterners.  

     My class went well as I started by talking about the interactive format of the workshop we would use. This would include working with partners and in teams to improve writing over the next four days. Tomorrow, the class will be divided into two halves so that we can work in smaller groups. I set the students a free writing assignment on which they will improve as the days go by.  I had also sent them my own essay—an example of travel writing—that we will analyze as the days go by. 

     I was very heartened by the English efficiency of these students. There were also a lot of faculty members present and they too participated actively. The students were vocal and eager to respond and when I set them the writing assignment, they attacked it with enthusiasm. I was delighted. The session went on for 90 minutes and will be continued for the next three days. By the end of it, they will have written a full-length travel essay of about a thousand words. Today, they wrote the first 200 of them. 

     When we were done, I took leave of the class and went with Nozliya, who is to be my escort and guide, to her office where a lovely tea was laid out for me. She had a pot of tea (from which I refrained as I have my caffeine-intolerance to deal with), green apricots, apples, caramel-filled wafer cigarette rolls, chocolates and chocolate wafer biscuits. In other words, lots of little treats.

     Next, she got one of her students called Kudrat, to carry my bag to the wing in which the Faculty Guest House is located. I was placed on the second floor of a brand new building in a spanking new university campus that is less than 3 years old. My room is vast—really huge and has two single beds and night stands, a desk and chair, a TV, a fridge and an attached bath. There is an electric kettle and they provided me with a cup and a glass. All the appliances are brand new. In fact, the fridge and the kettle (still in its original packing) had never been used. I will be the first occupant of this room. In other words, there is everything one would need for a very pleasant and comfortable short stay. There are some Korean women staying next door to me and I feel very pleased with these housing arrangements. 

    

Dinner with Nozliya:

     A little later, I received a possible itinerary from the US Embassy Travel Desk, which I was able to tweak and improve—there are no seats on the bullet trains and I shall be using a taxi to travel from  Samarkhand to Bukhara (a four-hour journey) and a flight back from Bukhara to Tashkent. We decided to have an early dinner. Nozliya asked me what I would like to eat and I said, “Something national.” 

     We took a taxi for the two minute ride to a no-frills place called Bukhara where we settled down to eat a raita-like salad of cucumber and red radish in yogurt flavored with dill fronds, gigantic samosas  culled Samsa here filled  chunks of meat (similar and yet very different from meat samosa on the Indian sub-continent) and Shaslik—which were minced beef kebabs similar to our Sheekh Kebabs in India (very flavorful although less spiced). To go with it all, there was local bread called patir that was made in layers in a tandoor and was very delicious. Lemony tea is drunk with almost every meal but I restricted my intake. A really good introduction to Uzbek food which is very similar to Indian Moghlai cuisine—loads of kebabs and tandoori bread.

     Nozliya took me back by taxi to my lodgings, where I found a hot zone that allowed me to use WiFi to talk to Llew and let him know that I have arrived. There is no WiFi all over campus or in my room—I have asked Llew to convey to Dad that I have arrived safely and am well as I do not have international dialing facilities on my Iphone.

     Back in my room, I was delighted to find that a small gift had been left for me: a beautiful little traditional red lacquer box and a glorious batik silk scarf in soft colors! I was thrilled. 

     I washed and got organized and decided to go to bed early as I started to feel tired all of a sudden.  

     What an unusual and interesting first day it had been for me in Uzbekistan!

     Until tomorrow...