Last Day in Uzbekistan: 'Graduation Ceremony' at Alisher Navoiy University and Last-Minute Rambles in Tashkent

Monday, April 29, 2019
Tashkent-Bombay

Last Day in Uzbekistan: 'Graduation Ceremony' at Alisher Navoiy University and Last-Minute Rambles in Tashkent.

     Salaam Aliekum from Tashkent!
     It felt great to awaken in my lovely faculty housing on the campus on Alisher Navoiy University and be able to take it really easy. I had no early assignment, and having gone to bed only at 2.00 am, I enjoyed the luxury of staying in bed till well after 8.00 am.
     I then started to get going: breakfast was a walnut-raisin pie that I had carried with me, a bread roll from the flight and one of my energy bars with coffee. I keep congratulating myself on the amount of tips I have picked up over so many decades of solo traveling--the food I carry with me stands me in good stead for mornings like these when, being in a foreign country with no easy access to food, I do not go hungry as I always have my nuts and energy bars or cookies with me.
     At 10.00 am, Maftuna, Nozilya's assistant, came to my door to tell me that I would be needed in the office at 11.00. That left me enough time to pack carefully and sensibly and have a shower and get dressed.  All these I did before I left my room.

'Graduation Ceremony' at the University:
       Nozilya had taken great pains to design and create a proper 'Certificate of Participation' for every student who had taken my Writing Workshops and these had been signed by the Rector of the University and needed to be counter-signed by me. I spent a while doing that as well as catching up on email messages as I finally had access to wifi in Nozilya's office. One of the most negative things about Uzbekistan has been the lack of easy digital communication facilities. Not to have wifi at the faculty housing was its biggest drawback for me--other than that, the place was wonderful. But, basically, all my work has had to stay on hold for a whole week as I have no wifi connection in my room to allow me to stay on track.
     Anyway, the very formal graduation ceremony was held in the same classroom in which I had taught my two Travel Writing Workshops.  The students had come formally dressed and it was a joy to see how enthusiastic they were. I have forged what seem like such close friendships in such a short time with people who are so genuinely warm and lovely. The ceremony began with a few words by Shahnoza who is the wife of the Dean and also a professor and translator. She speaks beautiful English and her lovely vote of thanks was a pleasure to hear. Another professor named Ahmad then followed and he too was warm in his gratitude.
     The three students (chosen by Nozilya and myself) who had progressed best through the course were selected and singled out for praise, but everyone of the students received the award certificate (beautiful framed) and each of them posed for a photograph with me when their names were called. I loved the pomp and ceremony of it all--it made them and me feel so special for what we had accomplished together. Nozilya deserves full marks for the time and trouble she had taken, from the get-go, to make this workshop a success for me and for the students. And from what I could see, it was much appreciated by the students who seemed to love it and to have learned a whole lot. I have told them that I would like to continue to stay in touch with them--funnily enough, a lot of them have started following me on Twitter (including Nozliya)--so I will have Twitter relationships with them which, I hope, will continue.

Last Lunch With Nozilya:
     When all the posing for pictures was done (and it took ages!), I adjourned with Nozilya to her office with the lovely bag of gifts I had been given: books associated with the University's history and the writings of Alisher Navoiy, the Uzbek writer after whom the university is named and of whom I had never heard until now. There was also a lovely terracotta souvenir plate with a ceramic rondel of the Gur-E-Amir (Mausoleum of Timur) in Samarkand in the center. This was the monument I had seen spotlit at night and it has left a lasting impression on my mind. So it was great to have it on a plate.
     Nozilya and I left by cab for lunch--back to Bukhara, the restaurant that is really close by. We had patir (local bread) and shorba (soup)--basically beef broth with vegetables, beef kebabs (beautifully marinated and grilled medium-rare--so delicious) and raita with cucumber and red radish. It was a simple but very delicious meal and as it was my last one with Nozilya, we talked a lot about future collaborations of which I hope there will be many.  They have told me that they would be so happy to have me return to teach again at the university as well as bring other professors from America to do the same. I am so grateful to Fulbright for giving me this incredible opportunity to teach in so exotic a country and to have made so many significant academic connections that will thrive as we go forward.

Last Minute Rambles in Tashkent:
     Two students were to go out with me again today--Ozod and Jowahid. I have gotten to know these two young lads so well that I now think of them as friends. I told them that I had two or three places I still wanted to see--based entirely on the essay that the students had submitted to me as part of their Writing assignments.

First Stop--Minor Mosque:  
     Minor (pronounced Mee-nor) Mosque is one of Tashkent's newest structures. It dominates the city because of its color (pure white, almost like the Taj Mahal) and its huge bright turquoise dome--the only shot of color, other than the decorative blue touches in the ceramic flowered tracery that climbs up the walls of the main gateway and the main entrance to the mosque.
     After we took a few pictures at the front, we tried to enter the mosque. But it was prayer time and men (who are only allowed inside during prayer time) were bowing low in prayer. Women could pray outside until the male prayer time was done. I peeked in through an open door and saw a vast hall-like space that is very delicately decorated. But apart from seeing this, we could go inside.

On to the Peace Memorial Park:
     The next item on my agenda was the Peace Memorial Park of which one of my students had written. This lovely park is set in generous acreage in the heart of the city--this was quite remarkable about this city: how much of urban space is dedicated to green zones. There are parks galore here and as it is spring time, the trees (mainly chestnuts) are in full bloom. I took so many pictures of them and of lilac buses blooming sweetly every where. I so miss spring in our Southport.
     The Peace or Memorial Monument features a gigantic sculpture of a woman bent down by sorrow. She is the Mourning Mother whose children had perished in the many wars in which this land and its people were involved through time immemorial. In front of her, in a sunken circle is the eternal flame--the Flame of the Unknown Soldier.  Many countries have this and it is equally moving no matter where in the world you might see it (the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, at Arlington Cemetery near Washington DC, or here). Flanking this sculpture on two sides are beautiful traditionally designed covered walkways that hold niches in which the names of each solider who dies for his/her country are engraved on brass plates. They are easy to find as they are categorized by the region of the country in which they died. It must be heartbreaking if you have actually lost a loved one in war, to come and identify the mark he has left on history. Yes, it was all deeply poignant and there was a reverential silence that generally prevailed among visitors to this venue.
     I was also continually taken by the armies of care takers and gardeners and maintenance people in this city. The place, needless to say, is immaculate. The degree of cleanliness is as good, if not better, than Singapore, and here it is achieved without the threat of fines (as in Singapore). Crews of men and women, fully uniformed and carrying the apparatus of their profession, can be seen keeping the place spotless.

On to the Earthquake Memorial:
        I had been passing by the Earthquake Memorial in a car several times, but I did want to go closer to take a look at yet another gigantic sculpture that features a strong man with a woman and a child in her arms cowering behind him. This is the focal point of the memorial that marks the earthquake that occurred on April 26 at 5.25 am in 1966 while the city still slept. Taken completely by surprise, I can just imagine the human loss that might have occurred here, not to mention the fact that the city was reduced to rubble.
     Soviet engineers and architects lost no time in constructing a whole new city and what you see of Tashkent today is entirely their doing. It is a sprawling, generously proportioned city, with beautiful modern buildings, stately parks (in which Russian Christians--who are the only people who own dogs here--taking them for walks), and a spankingly glorious metro system of which each station is a work of art. That said, the monument is surrounded by metal sculpture that features the city's rebuilding. We took a few photographs and left.

On to Chorsu Bazaar:
     I needed to finish up about 100,000 som (about $10)  that I had left and I figured that the best way to use it up would be to buy dried fruits and nuts (for which the entire region is famed) to take home. So, with the driver and the car at my disposal, it made sense to return to Chorus Bazaar where the prices are best. I ended up buying a kilo of peaches stuffed with walnuts and raisins. I also found fresh cherries in the fruit market and ended up buying those as well for Dad and Russel.  These are pretty early cherries--in the US, they are at their best in July.

Back on Campus to Get ready for Departure:
     I had reached the end of my brief but very productive and very eventful stay in Uzbekistan. The driver dropped me back to campus and my gallant escorts offered to accompany me to the airport at 9.00 pm when the same car would drop me off for my midnight flight back to Bombay.
     I returned to my room to try to find place for all the goodies I had bought: cherries, dried stuffed peaches, loads of Russian candies and chocolates, caramel-filled wafer cigars and 'halva' (vanilla fudge). I would have a great deal to give as gifts to Dad and Russel.
     Somehow I managed to find space for everything and had about an hour to spare to read quietly in bed (Jane Green's Falling: A Love Story) and to take a nap as I had a flight at midnight which would mean very little sleep tonight.
     I was awoken by a knock on my door--it turned out to be Nozilya, Dean Anwar and his wife Shahnoza who came to say Goodbye and Thanks to me. They had another gift for me: another terra-cotta plate, this time featuring the domes of Tashkent. It was really heart ending to say Goodbye to people who I had grown to know and like so much in such a short time.
       Once they left, I got back to reading my book in an attempt to wind down after what had been a hectic week in Uzbekistan. At 8.45, I put away my devices and heard a knock on the door. My escorts had come to get me. I was grateful that they carried my bag as I had turned heavy with all my buys. In the car, we sped off to the airport and I was there in 15 minutes. All went well except for the fact that the ground staff of Uzbelistan Airways did not check us in for the Bombay flight until two hours before the flight could leave. However, it did leave on time--and it was an empty aircraft. There were just 15 people on board. So every single one of the passengers got three-seaters to themselves to stretch out and go to sleep for the night. Drinks and a meal (dinner) that was very substantial (chicken with rice) was served followed by coffee or tea. I ate well and then settled down to three rather fitful hours of sleep, but at least I could stretch out. What a luxury this is in economy class on an aircraft today!
     We touched down in Bombay at exactly 5.30 am on April 30. I grabbed my bag and then took a auto rickshaw that got me back home in exactly 20 minutes.
     Uzbekistan has left its warmth on my heart. I hope to return there again in a few years' time--this time with Llew and this time including Khiva in our itinerary. There is always something you must leave undone so that it gives you a reason to return. And I believe I will...as I have made many lovely friends and taken a piece of them with me.
     Until tomorrow...
     

Last Day of Writing Workshop and Off on the Silk Route to Samarkand

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

Third Teaching Day in Tashkent and ‘Doing’ the Sights

Thursday, April 25, 2019

Tashkent

 Third Teaching  Day in Tashkent and ‘Doing’ the Sights

    

   Salaam Aleikum from Tashkent!

         I awoke after a very restless night—I literally kept waking up every hour...but then I had fallen asleep at 7.30 without even brushing my teeth. When I did finally wake up, it was 5.30 am—which means I had been sleeping albeit wakefully, for 10 straight hours! This was something of a record for me. 

     I had enough time to blog and prepare for my Workshop session as I had no Twitter or newspaper to distract me. I do not have WiFi in my lodging and this is mildly annoying. I put out my clothes for the day and had a shower and ate half of the wheel of bread that we picked up yesterday at Chorsu Bazaar. I spread some jam over it and devoured it with a cup of decaf coffee that I brewed in my room, thanks to the kettle that’s been provided.  Then I put my backpack together with the papers I would need for my class and my flash drive and I was out of my room.

     I arrived at Nozilya’s office at about 8.35 for my 9.00 am class.  She had not arrived and neither had her assistant. When she arrived, she got annoyed that a guest had been left waiting outside her office and she ticked the office staff off. About twenty minutes later, we went down to class and I got started.

     During this session, I focused on the ‘How’ of Writing: Style and Expression—and talked about the difference between personal choices and adherence to the rules of grammar and composition. The students were happy to have stints of free writing and an opportunity to discuss their work with their peers. So it went off quite well with some lecturing, some writing and some peer-critiquing. 

     At 10.30, the first class left and the second batch took its place. This kept me on my toes till 12 noon as I followed the same pattern of the morning’s class.  I gave my students some homework and told them I would see them tomorrow. When they left, I adjourned to Nozilya’s office where I was told that lunch was awaiting me. I have to say that I am deeply impressed by the fabled hospitality of the Uzbeks—I am being extremely well cared for and every detail in being looked after so graciously. 

Lunch in Nozilya’s Office:

     And indeed lunch was all laid out by her assistant—meat samosas, salad of tomatoes, barbecued beef kebabs, raita and the interesting Uzbek bread which is becoming very familiar to me. I ate well and really enjoyed the meal.

     Meanwhile, Dinara at the Travel Desk at the US Embassy was working on my trip along the fabled Silk Route to Samarkhand and Bukhara and she kept consulting with me through email that I was able to pick up in Nozilya’s office through WiFi. The only lap that was troublesome was the one from Samarkhand to Bukhara as train tickets were all booked and taxi offered an expensive alternative—she hoped to find me a train ticket at the last minute—perhaps a cancellation. Confident that it would work out, I set my mind to my next stint of sightseeing in Tashkent. This time, Nozilya set me up with two different young men—Mohammed and Abdullah—and, believe me, they could not feel prouder at being chosen for the assignment.

Second Day of Sight Seeing in Tashkent:

     My escorts asked me where I wanted to go today and I named two places that Lonely Planet lists as highlights of Tashkent: A Visit to Assumption Cathedral (a Russian Orthodox Church) and a Visit to the Museum of the History of the People of Uzbekistan. With that agenda in mind, the guys and I set out. Except that I also wanted to see the Cosmonauts Metro Station—this, of course, had been built by the Soviets to celebrate the achievements of their most accomplished cosmonauts. 

The Cosmonauts Metro Station:

     We took a taxi from right outside the side entrance of the Alisher Navoiy University and arrived at the Cosmonauts Metro Station about ten minutes later. The great thing about the location of this university is that it is right in the middle of the city—hence, all places of tourist interest are within a stone’s throw of it. 

     After I bought a ticket for 1200 som, we went down a shallow escalator that reminded me again of the metro stations we had seen in St. Petersburg in Russia, and arrived at the platform level. And the station was truly stunning. You can just imagine how special a city must be if it’s metro stations are interesting enough to be seen by tourists. 

     Well, the walls of this one were entirely lined with tiles in various shades of blue (to resemble the heavens). Set into these walls were large rondels, also in ceramic, featuring the most important scientists and cosmonauts of the Soviet space race—yes, there was Yuri Gagarin and Valentina Tereshkova, the first woman in space.  The main source of light for the platform was a series of pretty glass lamps set high up in the ceiling which, I suppose was meant to resemble clouds. Clearly, when the Tashkent subway system was set up in 1977 (the oldest, I was told among the contemporary former Republics), it is clear that the Soviets were very proud of their space program and glorified their cosmonauts for their achievements in ways that granted them honor for posterity. It was quite wonderful indeed to take in the glory of this station. 

On to Assumption Cathedral:

     I soon learned that although Tashkent might have one of the oldest subway systems in the region, it is certainly not the most extensive. Stations seem few and far between and we often found ourselves taking a taxi from a station to get to our destination or taking a taxi from one of the tourist sights to get to the Metro. I also noticed that taxis are plentiful and are all painted white. I am told that the dust that blows in from the desert shows less noticeably against white than it does darker colors. I also noticed that the taxis do not run by meter and that a price is negotiated with the driver before one enters the cab. My lack of language skills would definitely have made it difficult for me to avail of such transport were I without my handsome and eager escorts. 

  

The Visual Glories of Assumption Cathedral: 

     Assumption Cathedral is stunning in its impact long before one enters it. I realize that I had passed by it in the US Embassy car on my way from the airport to the University on the afternoon that I had arrived in Tashkent. It is a gorgeous confection of multiple gold onion domes that surround a tall, multi-tiered belfry tower in turquoise blue and white. Although the rest of the Christian world celebrated Easter last weekend, the Greek and Russian Orthodox churches always celebrate the big holidays such as Christmas and Easter about two weeks later—this has something to do with a different calendar that they follow. Hence, at the entrance of the church, we saw lines of Russian Christians waiting to buy Easter-themed items: panettone-shaped sponge cakes, Faberge-type Easter eggs, packets of yellow cotton chickens and the like. 

     Pushing past them, we arrived at the interior of the church—and like all the Russian Orthodox churches that I can recall that blew my socks off when I was in St. Petersburg, this one too was jaw-dropping. There was the whole pageant of saints that form the typical altarpiece and loads of icons and framed portraits of saints scattered at multiple altars. Ornate glass chandeliers swung from the ceiling and emphasized the delicacy of the paintings of saints and angels inside the main dome. There were side altars that were equally stunning as well as blue, white and gold ceramic altars that I had never seen before that encased more framed saints. There really was layer upon layer of decoration that truly overwhelmed the eyes—paintings, sculpture, ceramics, wooden and metal accessories, hundreds of candles, the smells of incense and many people praying at altars or in little niches. I was really very happy that I chose to visit this church as it has been a long time since I have entered so grand and opulent an ecclesiastical space.   

   

Visit to an Indoor Bazaar: A Peasant’s Bazaar

     Immediately across the main road that ran right alongside the Cathedral complex was, my students told me, a peasants indoor bazaar. They suggested that we stop briefly and talk a look inside it. I was not too keen, but as they managed to persuade me, I gave in. 

     This bazaar was a smaller version of Chorsu Bazaar that I had toured yesterday—much smaller. It was also much less busy and crowded. The stalls inside were similar and this time, I did succumb and bought some goodies—a packet of vanilla fudge laced with chocolate swirls (to which, I believe, I developed an allergy, as my tongue swelled up with painful sores!) Needless to say, I will not be eating anymore of this sweet. 

     We did not stay long in the bazaar and decided to move on to the next port of call for which we took a taxi. We were at our next stop in about fifteen minutes.

 A Visit to the Museum of the History of the People of Uzbekistan :

     Lonely Planet described this attraction as a must-see destination for anyone who wishes to get a crash course on the history and culture of the people of Uzbekistan.  And the author was right. In a squat, square white cube of a building to which we arrived on an afternoon when it started to rain again, we found two main floors that carried a detailed account of the lives of these people who were once so tied to Russia and are now trying to forge an identity that is entire their own. It is not an easy task as the influence of their giant neighbor is, well, gigantic. But they have decorative Islamic arts and culture that make them unique. And they have focused on those quite effectively. I must state that I was allowed to enter free on the strength of my Metropolitan Museum of Art ID card which saved me 16,000 som (about $2). We did not have the time to linger too long to read everything—and there was loads to read. Indeed, one could spend an entire morning just feasting on the wealth of archeological finds alone. 

      But here are some of the items that caught my eye—although the Museum does not have a brochure or any handout that marks out its Highlights: Fragments of Wall Paintings from Varaksha Palace near Samarkhand; Zoroastrian Burial Chamber with ossuary caskets; Beautiful stone Buddha in small niche. And upstairs, on the top floor, that is devoted to telling the story of the country since its Independence from the former USSR in 1991, there were  chairs and table used by Uzbekistan’s First President, Islam Karimov.

     Yes, I did get a good capsule idea of the country and history from this Museum in the same way that Llew and I had received a capsule idea of the history and culture of Iceland when we had visited its main Museum.

     By the time we wished to leave the Museum, it was coming down really hard and at the suggestion of my student-escorts, we were headed next to the Museum of Amir Timur that they told me was really worth seeing—and they were 100% right. It is stunning to me that Lonely Planet does not list it as one of the highlights of Tashkent for truly it was breath-taking. Abdullah called for a cab on his phone and we ran out of the building to find our driver waiting outside to take us to our next stop.

Stunned by the Museum of Amir Timur:

     The Museum of Amir Timur is located at Timur Square which is a handsome rotary or traffic island surrounded by Soviet-era and new post-Independence buildings.

     The Museum is a new creation—built at the behest of the country’s first President, Islam Karimov who thought it important that the new nation celebrate its most famous hero in a manner that was fitting to his accomplishments. Hence, he spared no pains or expense to create a building which looks like a round domed mausoleum with a bright green onion top—emerald green being the color of Islam,

     And then, once we entered (once again, I saved 16,000 som with my Metropolitan Museum ID card), my jaw just hit the floor. The interior decoration is so opulent that it takes some getting used to. There is a massive round main hall that contains, as its focal point, a huge stand for an open book—this turned out to be a copy of the Osman Koran that I had seen in the Moyie Mohammed Library Museum at Hast Imam Square yesterday. And dominating the space is a fresco depicting Amir Timur seated at court surrounded by his loyal and adoring lieutenants. The domed ceiling, from which a huge chandelier hangs, is decorated lavishly with paint and gilding in the macarabe style that I had seen in the Al-Hambra in Granada. Truly, the grandeur of the space beggars description.

     Once you get over the sheer magnificence of the central hall, you start to focus on the collection of this Museum that is devoted entirely to objects from the time of Timur (who is known to the West as Tamberlane or Tamerlane—a derivation of Timur the Lame). Indeed he was already so renowned in England that Christoper Marlowe, Shakespeare’s contemporary, wrote a play about him called Tamberlaine in the 1500s—about a hundred years after his glorious reign. He is said to have been rendered lame in battle—indeed, he was forever at war—a means by which he expanded his empire that stretched as far West as Germany and as Far East as Delhi which he eventually made his base.

      Timur’s great great great grandson is Babur who made it really big on the Indian sub-continent and begat Humayun who begat Akbar the Great who went on to give birth to Prince Salim (Jehangir) whose son was Shah Jehan (of Taj Mahal fame), whose son, Aurangzeb, the last of the great Mohuls, killed all his siblings—all 13 of them—imprisoned his father and usurped the throne. So you see that the impact of Timur on the Indian sub-continent and the Mogul Empire is vast. He is depicted in all contemporary paintings as a man with a lean and hungry look and neat goatee of a beard as well as a modest crown on his head. 

     There are loads of artifacts from the reign of Timur on the ground floor—sadly, most of the originals (pottery, urns, glass dagger handle, seal-rings from dynastic members, ceramic plates, etc.) are in global museums such as the British Museum, the Met in New York City, the Berlin State Museum, etc. On the second floor, there is clothing of the period, lots of architectural models of famous Samarkand and Bukhara buildings: mosques, mausoleums, etc. even a model of the Taj Mahal which they clearly consider to be the zenith of Islamic architectural achievement. There are also fine examples of grand traditional wooden carvings called Ghanch and a wonderful carved wooden depiction of the entire Temurid dynasty.

     There are also many depictions of Timur on more contemporary works of arts such as ceramic plates, wall plates, etc. Examples of his own personal history of conquest that he wrote himself called the Timur-Nama, are also to be found. Many oil paintings depict his most famous battles as well as scenes of the fabled market places of Samarkand in its Silk Route heyday. There is also a grand oil painting of Samarkand’s most famous square, the Registan (literally meaning desert) that I am looking forward very much to seeing soon.  

 Admiring Timur’s Sculpture in Timur Square:

     We then walked out of the Museum and on to Timur Square.  Thankfully, it had stopped raining and although it was still very cloudy, we were relieved as we could take some pictures besides the towering equestrian sculpture that sits high up on a pedestal. The square is surrounded by famous buildings of which one of the most striking is the Soviet-era hotel called Hotel Uzbekistan which is constructed in a solid Brutalist style with an interesting grid pattern on the facade being its only decoration. The era and the historic association of this hotel with the Soviets reminded me of the Amor Towles’ novel called A Gentleman in Moscow which has become a huge best-seller and which everyone except I seemed to love. Given all these literary connections, I told the guys that I wanted to visit the hotel and see its lobby for myself. They were clearly a bit taken aback by the strangeness of my request , but they complied and we were soon using the underground passage ways to cross the fast-flowing traffic that encircled the square. 

     I was quite enchanted, at this point, to find the square was filled with chestnut trees in full spring bloom. Their candle-like white blossoms were profuse—some rare ones were even blooming in pink. Having seen and loved these trees in the spring time in the UK, I realized how much I am missing spring in the relentless warmth of Bombay and how lucky I am to have a brief taste of it again in these parts. I took many pictures of the chestnuts trees in bloom before we arrived at the main entrance of Hotel Uzbekistan.

   

Inside Hotel Uzbekistan:

     Truly there is nothing to commend this super-plain hotel. There was a Reception counter at the far end with the words Reception printed over it in English. A few tired looking couches dotted the vast lobby that had nothing by way of decoration to write home about. However, having been on our feet for hours, I was relieved to sink into one of the couches and take a much-needed rest. I asked my students if I could treat them to a cup of coffee and cake in the Hotel Cafe but they had just called Nozilya and had been told by her that I would be having dinner with her—they, therefore, suggested that I refrain from eating anything at that point. 

    By the time, we left the hotel and used the underground passages to return to Timur Square, the sun had actually come out and we were delighted to get at least a couple of pictures with a more cheerful background.

Walk along ‘Broadway’ to Independence Park:

     Once again, I placed myself in the hands of my local tour guides who informed me that we were not too far from Independence Square which is another significant tourist attraction. I must admit that by this point, my feet were very tired and I was certainly flagging with fatigue. But with such enthusiastic guides egging me on, I could hardly refuse and we began the long but very pleasant walk along what they called ‘Broadway’ past a number of fancy shopping kiosks selling one-of-a-kind merchandise to arrive at Independence Park.

A Visit to Independence Park:

     Tashkent, like New Delhi, is planned around a series of rotaries or squares that are dedicated to some part of its colorful and erstwhile history. When the former USSR dissolved and the independent Republics were created, Uzbekistan came into its own. In 1991, the country gained its freedom from the Soviet yoke and an opportunity to emerge in its own light as a significant nation. This park was created to commemorate the country’s birth   

     It is arrived at by walking under a handsome series of arches made of 16 pillars that are punctuated by storks in varied poses. In the center is a splendid sculpture of a pair of rising storks—a symbol of freedom. Once you go under the arches, you arrive at the central circle which is marked by a short basalt obelisk that is crowned with a copper globe on which the map of Uzbekistan as the center of the universe is portrayed. Sadly the marble-paved approach to this monument, at whose base sits a maternal figure said to represent a Happy Mother, was closed to the public and we had to content ourselves with taking pictures of it from a distance. Still, I got a very good idea of the national pride that now envelopes this fledging country and I have to say that seeing the utter cleanliness of the roads, the manner in which the many public parks, squares and gardens are tended by an army of maintenance staff who keep everything spotless, it is very clear that these people take pride in their nation and in their surroundings. We have so much to learn from them.

     By this point, I was well and truly tired and ready to drop. I told the guys to find the quickest and least tiring way by which we could return to Campus. Since the Independence Park Metro stop was just steps away, it made sense to use it to get home. This metro station is also quite well known but I have to say that it was not a patch on the ones I have been seeing since yesterday. 

     We took the metro to a stop close to the campus and then took a taxi from there. The end of the rain meant that I could get some pictures of the towering statue of Alisher Navoiy whose sculpture dominates the central square as he is the 15th century writer of the Khamsa (a collection of five books) in Uzbek and this university is named after him. 

Dinner  at Donya with University Faculty:

     No sooner did we reach the campus than I thanked my escorts and was whisked off my Nozilya for dinner. I had no idea that the dinner to which the students had referred earlier in the evening would be a formal affair. Senior administrators and faculty members were hosting me at a formal dinner and when we set off by car, we arrived at a restaurant called Donya Family Restaurant where the Dean Anwar and his wife Shahnoza were already seated. In total, we were: Nozilya, Shahnoza, Dean Anwar, Ahmad and Habibulla. 

     This is a vast and obviously expensive place that offered three dance halls with different kinds of music played at each venue. We chose a quieter place where a live band entertained us with a singer who was able to sing in diverse languages—Uzbek, English, even Spanish (Besame Mucho). Our meal consisted of cold salad starters, a tiered stand of mixed grilled meats and vegetables and chocolate ice-cream for dessert. The mixed grill was very attractively presented in three tiers on large cake stands—very unusual. There were small sauce boats containing a sauce to be poured over lamb chops, beef, quail legs, mince in puff pastry and a variety of vegetables such as mushrooms, mixed peppers and eggplant. Drinks in the form of soft drinks such as Sprite and Coke were drunk. Conversation was fun and very casual and the department seems to get along well with each other. They made me feel very much at home and put me at my ease as they talked about so many aspects of their lives as academics in Uzbekistan as they too attempted to forge a scholarly identity that is conscious of its Russians roots but is keen to break away in creative ways. I find all my conversations with the local people very enlightening indeed. In the course of just three days, I have learned so much about this country and its people and I am just over the moon that I have had this unique opportunity to be here and to be given the chance to interact with students and professors from a culture and linguistic background so different from my own.

     Ahmad dropped me back to campus in his car before heading over to his home. Overall, I’d had an incredibly packed day and I fell asleep whispering a prayer of gratitude for this experience.

     Until tomorrow...

Conducting Part II of a Writing Workshop...then Getting a Taster of Tashkent Food and Sight Seeing.

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Tashkent, Uzbekistan

Conducting Part II of a Writing Workshop...then Getting a Taster of Tashkent Food and Sight Seeing.

     Salaam Aleikum from Tashkent!

     It is a real treat to be in a room that feels bracingly cool—I have no heating but with the windows closed, it is quite comfortable in my PJs and warm cashmere socks that I had the good sense to throw into my case. I awoke about twice at night but returned instantly to sleep to awake finally at about 5.00 am. I decided to get down to writing my journal for my future blog posts and to prepare for my class that was scheduled to begin at 9.00 am.

     When those were done, I had breakfast in my room: a large calzone filled with cheese and sausage that was good with a cup of coffee that I was able to brew in my own room. I ate these with lovely sweet strawberries—all of which Nozilya has sent me home last night.

    A quick shower later (it was hot and voluminous and very bracing), I got dressed formally (thank heaven I threw in formal clothes as the very fashionable Nozliya is dressed like a fashion model) and then found myself with another 45 minutes on hand and sleep washing over me. I decided to curl up (fully dressed) and have a short nap—which I did! When I awoke it was 8.30, it was just the right time to leave my room and go to Nozliya’s office. 

    And that was when I discovered that it was pouring. I mean not just drizzling as it had been doing yesterday, but bucketing down. Deeply disappointed, I managed to borrow an umbrella from the lady at the Reception Desk who smilingly lent it to me. At about this time, I saw the student, Kudrat, run up with an umbrella for me. I then walked with him to Nozliya’s office where I printed out the essay I needed to analyze as an example of travel writing.

     

Teaching my Second Class:

    At 9.00 am, I entered my class and discovered a whole bunch of new faces. It turned out that yesterday’s class would be divided into two. One part arrived this morning but they were joined by these newcomers. I was very disappointed as my workshop was planned to be taught in stages. If I had new students who had no idea what I had done yesterday, I would first need to catch them up with the ones who had already started on my writing assignment. Like any good professor, I had to think on my feet and I set the new ones to write for ten minutes while I asked the old ones to do some peer-critiquing as we waited for the news ones to catch up. Then a Professor who teaches Russian came to my door and told me that some of her students wanted to take my class and she asked if they could join in. I told her that they were welcome. And so it went on.

     I put up my PowerPoint on screen and after they had written and peer -reviewed for some time with some shuffling and much talking among themselves, I went on to talk about Content or the ‘What’ of Writing. They seemed to enjoy the many examples I gave them. And before we knew it, the time was up and I was getting ready to teach my next batch. Because, yes, I was teaching two classes back to back for a whole 3 hours.

        The same problem prevailed with the second batch: there were students who were present yesterday and others who were seeing me for the first time. I did exactly what I had done with the first batch. 

     At 12 noon, we had an official photography session with the students and the Dean standing by two props—large flag poles with the flags of the US and Uzbekistan placed in front of a large world map. It was also ‘Speak English Day’ on campus and a large number of balloons and decorations were all over the floor of the English Department and students were making every attempt to speak only in English.  It was a good day to be on campus.

     A little later, Nozliya left to teach her class and I was left with a computer on which I tried to find out about the two or three places to which I could go in the course of my sightseeing.  That was when a professor called Aida came into Nozilya’s office and spent the next 45 minutes talking to me about Indian ghazals as a form of poetry. I told her that, from the little I knew, ghazals are songs—lyrics set to music—and sung in a particular type of melodious tone. They are usually love songs in Hindi or Urdu—unlike she said, ghazals, as she understands them in Persian, that are exclusively religious, devotional songs. She is a professional translator who is a professor at this university, currently finishing up her Ph.D.dissertation.

     When Nozilya returned from class, she and I set off for lunch. It was about 2.00 pm and I was ready for a meal although I had nibbled on caramel wafer rolls and chocolate during the break. 

     

Eating a Horse at Plov Lunch at Osh Paz!

     Nozliya told me she was taking me to eat plov—this is the traditional, best-known Uzbek festive dish—usually served on celebratory occasions such as weddings and graduations. We found a taxi and a taxi driver who recommended a place that presumably had the best traditional plov in the city.  And there we were taken to Osh (plov is called Osh in Russian) where there was outdoor seating available.  However, on a day when it continued to pour, it was good to sit inside—far warmer and cozier—as we ordered traditional round Uzbek bread studded with black sesame seeds and plov—two servings of it with lemon tea (which is a traditional accompaniment).

     You might have guessed by now that plov is a derivation of the word pullao or pilaf or pilau—a rice and meat layered concoction that arrived in India from Central Asia through Turkistan through Timur (the Lame or Tamerlane). Here in Uzbekistan, it is made with long-grain rice cooked in lamb fat and flavored with spices (I spied cloves and peppercorns) and vegetables like yellow carrots, chick peas, raisins and onions. Shredded lamb is then placed in a crown at the very top. There was a bit of sausage at the side and I asked Nozilya what it was and she told me it was Horse-meat!

     So I literally ate a horse for lunch! The horse meat sausage was delicious and if you hadn’t told me so, I would never have known what I was eating! The plov was delectable—highly flavorful and needless to say, very very filling. I really did feel as if I had eaten a horse when I got up from the table. With raita and tomato salad, it was a very filling meal and I had only just tasted the bread. The lemony tea made a fab accompaniment, I have to say, and I found myself sipping far more than I would have liked, given my caffeine intolerance.

Off On a Sight Seeing Jaunt:

     Two young students, Ozod and Jowahid, had been assigned the task of escorting me around the city on the first of what I hoped would be exciting sight seeing jaunts. As always happens, the local people have never seen the sights of their own city and these young chaps did not have a clue. When I told them that I wanted to go to the Moyie Mubarak Library Museum, they hailed a cab and spoke in Uzbek to the driver who seemed to know where he was going. He ended up taking us to a brand-new architectural complex at which there was not a soul. The rain drummed down annoyingly as we walked up to a confection of grand gateways, minarets, domed mosques, etc. beautifully decorated with tile work, only to find out that the entire complex was closed. Apparently, it is still under construction—although I rather doubt it as the shop was fully stocked and definitely up and running (although all closed today).

Exploring Hast Imam Square:

     Not to be daunted, we hopped into another taxi and this time, my escorts asked the driver to take us to the most famous square in the city, Khast Imom Square (also pronounced Hast Imam). This place buzzed with tourist traffic. There were large groups of elderly Frenchmen and women who had a local guide that was speaking to them in French and explaining things to them. 

     The Square is another confection of domed structures, mausoleums, minarets and arched corridors. We entered a mosque that was all shut up. Prayer time sees huge carpets run along the floor. The guard told us that the biggest attraction of this complex was behind the building in which we found ourselves.

Seeing the Uthman (Osman) Koran:

     So the biggest attraction (pun intended) of the complex is the Uthman or Osman Koran—supposedly the largest one in the world. It was created for Ustman, also known as Osman, the third Caliph, in the 14th century and was brought to Samarkhand by Timur (whose name is synonymous with Samarkhand). It was whisked off by the Soviets to Russia in 1868 and returned to Samarkhand in 1924 by Lenin in a gesture of goodwill. It was obviously subsequently brought here to Tashkent where this little library was created for it, The library has an exquisite turquoise blue ribbed dome which was architecturally enchanting. 

     The Koran is enormous—it is bound in deer-skin and created on parchment pages. The case that holds it is air-conditioned and is placed upon a gigantic black marble cube that resembles the Kaaba. The inside of this little library is decorated in exquisite light blue painted details on multiple domes. I saw a lot of female tourists from neighboring Tajikistan dressed in traditional clothing who stood reverentially in front of the Koran and prayed together.  Many male tourists who followed them did the same. Around the main hall that contains this Koran are smaller niche-like rooms where a vast number of Korans in different global languages and in varied forms of binding are placed for visitors to see. There are 30 to 40 rare 14th to 17th century books in this collection. In addition to the huge Osman Koran, there is a tiny thumb-sized one that fits in a leather amulet case—very interesting indeed. 

     Next to the library is the 1856 Telyashayakh Mosque but not many visitors go in there. Instead, they head to the back of the mosque where a shopping center attracts a lot of tourists—there are a number of artisan shops here selling Uzbek souvenirs: I saw rugs and wall hangings, caps, cloaks, ceramics, lacquer boxes, etc. I looked for magnets and found tons of them although there were no postcards at all. I bought magnets for Uzbekistan, Tashkent and Samarkhand in the one place in which I found the ‘flexi’ style that we have been collecting. I did not find one in the same style for Bukhara but I shall buy it when I get there.

     

Off to Chorsu Bazaar:

     As it was still pretty early, my escorts suggested we get to Chorsu Bazaar—this is on the edge of the Old city and is most unusual in that it represents a vast market-place that sells everything you would need for cooking—all under a massive green and turquoise dome with several smaller domes scattered around. This is Chorsu Bazaar. I noticed, pretty quickly, that so many of the words we use in Urdu or Hindi are used here (such as Bazaar for market, saboon for soap, zindagi for life, kanoon for law, Shakar for sugar), etc. Obviously, they all have their roots in Persian that was brought to India by the Moguls through Timur whose great great grand-son Babur founded the Mogul Empire that flourished through his base in Delhi. 

     Inside, Chorsu bazaar was fascinating. There were mountains of spices like turmeric and saffron, piles of fruits and vegetables. I saw cherries most unusually arranged, loads of ruby-red strawberries (none seemed to have been genetically modified), orange-skinned lemons, sacks of rice, piles and piles of sweets and biscuits and chocolates that are eaten with the oceans of tea they drink, rustic breads of a vast variety made in the adjoining bakery that was filled with domed tandoori ovens. Under the main dome, there was meat (whole carcasses of lamb and beef), oxtail, kidneys, liver and the famous horse-sausage. Chickens of varied sizes from regular ones to small quails and eggs (also of various sizes and color and from various birds including quails are abundant. (I had a quail egg also with my plov). I found everything absolutely fascinating. Later on, I wished I had picked up some of the individually wrapped sweet confections as they would make good gifts to take back home to Dad and Russel and later also to Llew (when I meet him next month in South America).   

     

Riding Tashkent’s Metro System:

     This was a good point to take the Metro and my escorts led me to the Chorsu Market metro stop from where they purchased a ticket for me for 1200 som (about 80 cents). I was given a plastic token to drop into a slot at the turnstile and then we were going down an escalator that reminded me very much of the ones in St. Petersburg and on to the platform that was stunningly decorated. 

     And here is why I wanted to ride the metro: the stations are truly works of art, decorated profusely with the grand ceramic tile work for which this country is famed. The Chorsu station was not that great but we had to make a change and get to the Alisher Navoyi Station, the University’s Station, which was filled with jade-green ceramic motifs featuring the six books that the national writer, Alisher Navoiy, wrote.  They were collected together in a single work called the Khamsa. He is the best known of the Uzbek writers (he is from the 15th century) and is revered among his people. Truly the station had to be seen to be believed—you would not for a minute dream that you were in a metro station. I kept thinking of our disgusting New York City ones that are so filthy and so repulsive. 

    Making a change of line brought us into yet another station where the walls were fully decorated with mosaic floral motifs and the pillars were equally striking. I would imagine that if one had the time, one could go on the metro and get off at each station to be fully delighted by the ingenuity of the decoration and the strong aesthetic sense of these lovely people.    

In a Modern Shopping Mall Called Next:

     My escorts were leading me to Next, a modern shopping mall, so that I could buy the Caramel filled wafer cigars that I wanted to take home to Dad and Russel. This brought me into another world—far from the religious traditions of the afternoon—mosques and Korans and minarets—I was in a contemporary world surrounded by shops like L’Occitane and Forever 21 with a range of Uzbek designer names and brands. We found the supermarket from which I did buy my confections as well as apricot pulp that is dried and rolled up into sheets—in India, the same thing is made from mango pulp and called Aam sat. 

     I decided to treat my handsome student escorts to gelato and when we found an Italian place that sold some, we sat down (we all needed a rest by this point) to enjoy it. And it was very good indeed.

     We took a taxi back to the University campus from a place that overlooked the other big theater in Tashkent called the Alisher Navoiy Opera and Ballet Theater. This is not as new or impressive as the grander Ilkholm Theater but it is similar in construction and design.

     Back on campus, I was still so stuffed with my plov and gelato that I decided to skip dinner. I had a lot of goodies to eat in my room, should I feel hungry. I told Nozilya not to worry about escorting me for dinner and that she should go home. I found that most of my travel arrangements have been made and that the US Embassy Travel Desk is awaiting confirmation on just one or two more items. Relieved at that knowledge, I picked up my email from the hot zone and went straight to my room. It was almost 7.00 pm and I was tired after another long and eventful day. I had covered a lot of ground for my first day in the city and I looked forward to seeing a couple of the Museums tomorrow.   

     In my room, I thought I would do a spot of reading but in fact, I felt so sleepy that I curled up and had a nap at 7.30 pm and believe me, although I kept waking up several times through the night, I did not really wake up again until 5.30 am the next day! I have not fallen asleep at 7.30 in a very long time and I have not slept for 10 hours straight in an even longer time—so I guess my body needed this rest.

     Until tomorrow...