VIGNETTES FROM CENTRAL ASIA -Rasputin

Rasputin is as black as night. He looks at the world with solemn indifference from the lofty rooftop of an old lipioshka van whose paint job is a witness and victim of time. Belonging to no one, Rasputin lives on people's charity. I'm sure he loves the wafting smells of  fresh baking lipioshka and other pastries issuing from the confines of the bake shop because I see his small body swaying in delight when the bread is placed on the trays to be delivered to some neighborhood patrons. Once the van’s engine revs up and his favorite drives away, he swiftly finds a sunny area atop the bakery’s entrance steps from where he commands the best view of the street: children playing ball and all the housewives carrying their bags or small shopping wheeled carts, on their way to get their daily produce, meats, and groceries at the nearby souk.

When stray dogs bark Rasputin arches his back and hisses, his face distorting ungracefully.
I usually talk to him in English even though he is an Uzbek feline and may not understand me; lately though, when I come to get my  daily lipioshkas I've brought him some dry cat food. If I'm not in a hurry I bring him some rice milk in a jar  –which he loves-  and pour it in the tin container someone has placed nearby at the top of the steps. As my Russian improves, I'm able to say a few things to him as I scratch his head. He moves it slowly from left to right and then closes his eyes, yawning in bliss. I think he’s beginning to like me. esw'97

VIGNETTES FROM CENTRAL ASIA First Few Weeks in Uzbekistan - Continued...The Chorsu Bazaar

I know that in bygone days the Uzbek bazaars were not only prosperous centers for trade along the Silk Road, but also places where official town criers and court announcers paced the streets bringing public decrees from governors and rulers. These prosperous market places provided sheltered security for commercial dealings as well as a heaven for lovers of water-pipe smoking and for lovers of tea. The latter being served in the many successful chaikhanas spread out throughout the bazaar.  Fairs and celebrations were also held in these markets; felons were publicly judged and punished or pardoned accordingly -within the squared area directly in front of the bazaar.

Today the chaikhanas remain, and the produce farmers have moved in along with the dairy farmers, butchers, bakers and grocers; the nut producers and the herbalists; the antique dealers and such. They’ve all set up shop within the arcaded confines of the Uzbek bazaars.

Uzbekistan is a legendary country and to me as far from the familiar as one can get -a rare gem, arresting and enigmatic. Life here is old and deeply rooted in tradition. I see it in the head gear people wear on the streets, the colorful robes that cloak men on their way to the mosque…the striking, Uzbek produced, vibrant silks.

The Chorsu Bazaar seems mostly Uzbek while at Alayski I saw more Russians. Chorsu appears mono ethnic in comparison and more colorful in dress and sound levels, if that is possible. In Persian, Chorsu means Crossroads.

Life looks to be in full swing as we arrive early on a Wednesday morning; the Chorsu metro stop has an exit conveniently located within one of the busy streets of the bazaar. It is so crowded, it’s a bit daunting; I strap my shoulder bag around my head and under my arm tightly. Nobody ever said there are pickpockets here, but I guess, it’s instinctive for me. This market seems much larger than Alayiski, maybe there's a greater variety of goods; clothes, shoes, traditional costumes and lots of Chinese-made clothing. Literally, there are hundreds of mini stalls along the alleyways and much more stuff on the ground, occupying sidewalks in the open.

There’s a lot of bargaining going on and it’s quite interesting to watch, and it’s done with a smile.

Originally an open air market place, Through centuries Chorsu had alleyways covered with merchandise from all parts of the Silk Road. By the 1950’s all that confusion was moved away to make room for the blue and turquoise mosaic domed buildings designed by master Soviet architects to give the area a more ordered less ethnic look during the U.S.S.R. period. Business is now partly conducted under the shadow of those most impressive blue domes but somehow, after the breakup of the Soviet Union and Uzbekistan's independence, the market is again brimming beyond its boundaries as it may have been during its periods of trade when the Silk Road camel caravans stopped over in Tashkent, their goods spilling from wool and goat hair kilim bags.

This bazaar contains bakery shops with baking tandor ovens in plain view -an bread-making education in itself. There are also some butchers selling horse meat -a true delicacy in this part of the world- slightly sweet, tender and low in fat, I am told.

Housed under another beautiful blue dome at Chorsu, are the carpet and souvenir shops, some restaurants, chaikhanas and all kinds of imaginable household plastic ware.

I can say that I liked both bazaars equally: Alayski is closer to my house and we can drive there on weekends for the weeks produce. Chorsu has a more Asian like -sophisticated beat to it and is a nice place to bring guests who visit the area and maybe for a yearly jaunt to look at carpets.

I'm definitely taken by these age-old market places.

VIGNETTES FROM CENTRAL ASIA: First few weeks in Uzbekistan

As days creep on, our personal belongings begin to arrive in Uzbekistan; our bigger house is ready and a new routine is setting in with our books and familiar belongings.

After a little time organizing the house I’m more attuned to accepting this new culture that surrounds me; I begin to feel life in Central Asia as my own as I look forward to my youngest children arriving for the holidays.

Making friends has made all the difference in my world and daring to drive in this new country gives me independence to explore on my own or with others even though international driving rules are neither enforced nor observed.

My rule here is: get in the car and pray -be aware of every car on the road and what it may do. A stop sign may not mean people will actually stop –however, they do stop for red traffic lights - really, it’s not bad once I get a handle on it. If one knows what to expect, all’s fine. It just takes a bit of practice.

I’m learning much in my first few weeks in Uzbekistan by using Tashkent's wonderful Rapid Transit System, a truly remarkable underground museum where people can appreciate the intricate tilework on the arched walls showcasing beautiful art-deco lighting fixtures.

Structurally sound and ingenious, each metro station is an original work of art reflecting its given name and designed by prominent Uzbek architects and artists. It is saner than driving if there’s a nearby stop wherever one’s going.

My first two outings with new friends on the metro were to the Alayski and the Chorsu bazaars because they told me I needed a traditional oriental experience. I said I’d been to Alayski already but hadn’t seen all of it. Anyway, both markets are ages old, diverse and super crowded.

These two bazaars are the most unique so I wanted to learn about them first (there are also other big ones and many small neighborhood ones). Ancient bazaars are the best place to experience Central Asian culture; its sounds, smells and life in general.

In spite of the stares we received from several Uzbek boys, I need to take a minute to place my mind on what Cathie is telling me -the fact that Alaisky is one of the oldest in Tashkent-  budding around the 13^th century (!) as a place of trade along the Silk Route. The actual market developed naturally as farmers began to bring their produce in the spring and summer months. It became very popular among the locals from the old town and also the regional areas created during Russia's colonial period and later among the USSR’s mock geographical divisions of Tashkent. It’s been standing here as a true bazaar for 150 years.

The area is partly covered under tiled pavilions and partly in the open; the day is pleasantly warm with deep blue skies and radiant sunshine; the market is brimming with herbs, fruit and melons of all kinds, grapes, pomegranates as well as vegetables, spices, dried fruits and a variety of nuts. Trying to communicate over the vendors’ loud voices is impossible, so we march on looking at this and that.

We also made our way upstairs –it’s a large area- where there are souvenirs, colorful fabrics and the dairy part of the bazaar where there’s honey in bats, milk and cream, sour cream and many varieties of cheese –all unpasteurized, however. Cathie tells me that if the milk is used within two days it’s fine. Or sour cream if you plan to use it in tonight’s dinner. There are no packaged dairy products except for butter and that’s in the bigger supermarkets with many empty shelfs. Most dairy items are frozen because they come from other countries, generally for the convenience of expatriates who can afford to buy them.

 Continues...Chorsu bazaar in the next blog.

VIGNETTES FROM CENTRAL ASIA: Off to Uzbekistan

During our first few weeks in Tashkent, Uzbekistan, we have been assigned a temporary house in a thoroughly Uzbek neighborhood. There’s even a mosque at the end of the block. In this our second weekend, we are shown how to bazaar shop –and how it works-  also the route to follow from the house; last weekend we were able to drive a company car which was helpful at making us feel a bit more ‘at home’ and gave us some independence. Today’s first experience at the bazaar was exotic, almost mythical  -not unlike the Tangier Kasbah- except here there were no foreign tourists, no copper items or ceramic ware for sale; nonetheless, it was deafening with bargaining, haggling, carts making their way along the cobbled stones;  we ended up buying fruit, vegetables some spices , at ‘home’ we only have salt, pepper and olive oil,  items our sponsors bought for us before our arrival (plus some paper products from the company's commissary) -it will be some time before we acquire a pantry and a rack full of spices- that’s what I always miss the most, it always takes time. Our consumables won’t arrive for a month. So far we’ve been eating dinners that our sponsors and other company people have sent for us as we try to settle in and learn the ropes of life in Uzbekistan.

The first weekdays I stayed ‘home’ feeling miserable and homesick. But Thursday and Friday I went to work with my husband, spending the day in his office, typing papers and also writing to my children, my sister and my parents. Our new cell phone is very expensive for use on overseas non-emergency calling.

I need to find a job soonest!

Central Asia is new to me, quite dissimilar from other places I’d been to before; I feel I need to tell someone about it, write all I am witnessing, the colors, the scent of the fruit trees lining the sidewalks; the street potholes; the different food, the absolute lack of attractive retail businesses in the downtown areas, the massive gray Soviet style monuments; the lack of restaurants or fast food.

On arrival in Uzbekistan, we experience a completely authoritarian attitude and pointless bureaucracy coming from customs officers scrutinizing passengers’ passports at Islam Karimov Tashkent International Airport, even at three in the morning! We came on a long haul Lufthansa flight from Washington DC to Tashkent via Vienna and Frankfurt. We are told that the Arrivals Terminal ‘routine’ always involves a lengthy process. When we finally get to our temporary ‘home’ it’s almost daybreak.  

A slight smell of cow dung dangles in the air as the colors of dawn materialize in the horizon. It’s November 10.

At my husband's office everyone is welcoming; Russians and Uzbeks working here are all smiles, a rare commodity at the airport, they are all English speaking, of course; friendly and inviting. The two days I’m here this first week they share their lunches with me and are curious to learn about us and what our first impressions of their country have been.

The Russians at the office and the ones on the street wear western attire but the Uzbeks I see walking by our house in the districts and outskirts of Tashkent are exotically attired; with a wealth of gold teeth and the tyubeteyka hats in traditional shapes, richly textured fabrics and colors. Iconic to this Central Asian nation, tyubeteykas form part of the vibrant Uzbek national costumes used in celebrations and holidays. Another ubiquitous headdress that has caught my fancy is the black skull cap called Chust -routinely worn by men- with distinctive embroidery of white arches along their border. Others call them Taqiyah or Uzbek kufi hats.

After culture shock disappears, I think I’m gonna like it here.