Friday, April 26, 2019
Tashkent-Samarkhand
Last Day of Writing Workshop and Off on the Silk Route:
Salaam Aleikum from Samarkand!
It was another crammed day along the Silk Route as I awoke after a dreary night. Drinking all that caffeinated Uzbek tea with every meal has done a number on my sleep patterns. I was wide awake until 2.30 am getting more and more frustrated. That’s it—no more tea for me no matter how lemony or tempting it is.
Awake at 6.30 am, I began preparing for my Workshop and reviewing the essays that some of the students have handed in—their English language skills are held back by poor grammar. They make all the errors of most students who learn English as a foreign language—lack of articles—definite and indefinite—incorrect placement of words when constructing a sentence, use of present continuous instead of past tense. I responded to the essays in detail, then made a few points for my blog post. I would write the blog on my four-hour train journey along the Silk Route from Tashkent to Samarkand this evening.
Last Workshop Session at the University:
Things were quite disorganized at the University today as a celebrity was expected and there was some hushed excitement. Students were involved in all sorts of classes that clashed with the timing of my workshop sessions and attendance was poor. Those who did show up received one-on-one sessions with me as I viewed their essays and their writing and told them what they could do to expand on them and make them more powerful. These students are simply superb. They are kind and respectful, intelligent and vocal. They are not held back by their lack of linguistic skills. They participate fully and enthusiastically and make an ideal teaching audience. I taught two sessions again, back to back and was grateful for the break which came a full three hours after I had begun.
Plov Lunch in Nozilya’s Office:
My entry into Nozilya’s office brought the sweet aroma of plov into my nostrils and there it was all laid out: an indulgent ceramic platter of the pilaf with shredded lamb topping it. Tomato salad and raita were simple accompaniments as we sat and ate our fill. Nozliya basically doesn’t eat at all—she picks at the smallest items on the platter—this explains her will o the wisp figure.
Lunch done, I set out on my sightseeing for the afternoon. But first, with my travel plans all sorted and all transport arrangements in place, I had to stop off at the US Embassy to pick up the extra American currency I had left with Saida to pay for my travels. Nozliya told me I had the luxury of the Rector’s car and driver this afternoon and three students (two girls and a guy) to accompany me. They were very willing escorts—Mohammed from yesterday was one of them. Before I left Nozilya’s office, I handed over to her and her assistant the gifts I had bought for them from India.
At the US Embassy:
Since my visit was not on the cards today and security is super tight anywhere around US diplomats, I did not enter the US Embassy premises today. However, the security guard called Saida out and in a few minutes, she handed me the packet with my money and took away from me the three gifts I left for her, for Peri who got me the Visa clearance and for Azam who had arranged for my Workshop sessions to be conducted at Alisher Navoiy University. She was quite delighted with them and told me that she cannot wait to get my report on how it went as I am the first American to be coming through the US Embassy to teach at this place. I told her I would send it to her as soon as I returned to Bombay.
Off to Chorsu Bazaar:
I had left Chorsu Bazaar yesterday and immediately wished I had bought some of the chocolates and candies to take home to Dad and Russel. So, although I had been there yesterday, since I had the car at my disposal, I asked the driver to take me back there. It did not take me long to make my selection of Russian goodies from the piles in the candy section of the market. With that done, we could turn to the next item on our agenda: A Visit to the State Museum of Fine Arts.
Off to the State Museum of Fine Arts:
The driver took us speedily to our destination and when we arrived there, I was allowed in for free once again with my Met Museum ID card—I saved 25,000 som plus my students were very impressed with my privileges.
The Museum was running a special exhibition on the culture of the Steppes—which included several of the former Soviet Republics. We started of with the section on Kazakhstan and saw a variety of riding gear and equipment, weapons, jewelry, pottery, etc. We skimmed quickly through this and made our way upstairs where the galleries were filled with Fine Art of the nation—I did not recognize any of the artists. There were also galleries filled with Soviet-era works and some of these were quite striking. However, we really had to speed through these galleries and take a closer look at just a few because I was keen to get back to campus by 4.00 pm. Nozilya had arranged for me to have the same car and driver to take me to the Train station and she waned me to leave at 5.00 pm for my 6.00 pm train to Samarkand. And that was what we did. I thanked my kind student escorts and hurried off to my room to pack as minimally as possible. I threw in nightwear and toiletries and electronic chargers for my devices. Making sure I had my train ticket and other tourist information in a folder, I left my room at 5.00 and found Nozilya waiting for me. She saw me to the car, instructed the driver on where to take me and off I went. I reached the huge train station and asking for directions, found out that my train was already on the station. All it took was to walk the length of a very long platform to get to my car and to find my seat.
My train was one of those old, Soviet-era trains that had seen better days. It was one of those typical European long-distance trains with separate coupes and a long corridor that runs the length of the cars. I found myself, somewhat disappointingly, in a car that was occupied by two old, burly and ripely-smelling Uzbeks who greeted me but soon discovered that I could not communicate with them. They asked where I was from and when I said, America, they seemed pleased. They seemed even more pleased when they asked if I was from India and discovered that I was indeed from there too. Next thing I know, they were naming Raj Kapoor and singing ‘Mera Jhoota Hai Japani’. You cannot make this up! I remembered what one of my Russian students at NYU had told me about 15 years ago—that in Communist Russia, Bollywood films were very popular and that Raj Kapoor was a local hero, his films avidly lapped up by the Soviet audience. These guys were from that era—they had grown up on the movies of Raj Kapoor and they sang his songs even if they could not understand the lyrics. It was unbelievable.
I soon discovered that they were spending the night on this old and slow train—it would take me four hours to get to Samarkand. They were headed off to Kokhand and would reach tomorrow morning. They made themselves comfy as soon as the train began running by donning PJs and using the white sheets that had been handed out to make their beds.
I turned to my laptop and began blogging and they snoozed off. I also discovered that they had a batch of buddies in the next car for their friends kept dropping in, sat and chatted for a while and left.
Dinner with New Friends:
After a while, they disappeared and stayed away for some time. I made good headway and finished my journaling and was wrapped up in my book on my Ipad, when one of them came and beckoned me to follow him. He gestured with his hand that I should join them for dinner. I was not sure I understood but I did follow him and right enough—in the next car were about six more of their pals and spread out on the table between them was all the fixin’s of a traditional Uzbek dinner: roast chicken, beef stroganoff, patir bread, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers. There was a bottle of Schnapps doing the rounds and lots of chai (tea). They squeezed into the seats to make room for me—I tried to refuse but they were having none of it. Next thing I knew, I was tucking in to their meal and enjoying it as they continued to try to communicate with me through actions, gestures and some snatches of language. Talk turned round to Raj Kapoor once again and the movie Sangam was mentioned as one of the chaps began singing, “Bol Radha, Bol Sangam, Hoga ke Nahin” and I was joining in. There was wonderful camaraderie between these chaps and me. I can still barely believe that I sat amidst eight burly former Bolsheviks and sang Hindi films songs with them. It is astounding really what unpredictable experiences travel will bring you when you are solo on the road...in my case, on the Great Silk Road. Llew and I had been to one end of it last year when we were in Xian in China where the Road started and terminated. And now here I was on it again—this time in Uzbekistan.
I excused myself after eating my fill and returned to my book. In about an hour, we arrived at Samarkand and I was met by my guide, Khurshid who introduced himself to me and told me that he would drive me to my hotel. But first..he had a surprise in store. He took me to a monument that appeared as if from nowhere and simply stopped me in my tracks. This was the Mausoleum of Amir Timur which is called Gur-E-Amir Mausoleum. It was simply stunning because it was spectacularly spotlit. We wandered around taking pictures from various angles and, believe me, I simply could not get enough of it.
A little later, we arrived at my hotel—the Asia Samarkand Hotel—which immediately reminded me of our time last year in China. It’s decor was all about Chinese kitsch—garish colors, ugly light fixtures— but I was too tired to think of anything except checking in, getting my room key and going straight to bed after I’d connected on very weak internet and had a quick chat with Llew.
Until tomorrow
No comments:
Post a Comment