From Moscow to Boston

Our trip was almost over and we headed to the airport. A huge storm from the night before left huge trees down and major damage to the city.
We got to the check in for Aeroflot early…one of the first in line. We watched as they tagged our bags, sent one on its’ way and then started to mumble “problema”. From what we could tell, John’s reservation had been cancelled, mine was still in the computer- and the flight was full. The clerk left to pull our bags back and took off the baggage tags. At this point, we were desperate. We pleaded with another woman (who looked like a supervisor) to help us and she reactivated John’s reservation and got us on the plane.
We finally made it onto the plane - a full 767 – only to hear the announcement from the pilot that “the airport has no power and the plane can’t leave” so we sat on the plane for an hour and a half before it finally takes off.
The drink cart came by and the rows of men across from us ordered beer, wine and tomato juice—then pulled out liters of vodka and started toasting each other.
Note- the first round of drinks is complementary—after that, you have to buy them from duty free.
The movie features on the plane were an old Rock Hudson, Claudia Cardinale black and white film from the 60’s followed by old Russian black and white cartoons.
5 hours into the flight and the guys across from us were into their 2nd vodka bottle. They were getting melancholy, kissing and hugging each other, crying…(they were also mesmerized by the cartoons…)
They latched onto an American couple who had just adopted 2 Russian children. The mother left one of them with the girl across the aisle and the father joined the Russians for shots of vodka.
Finally we landed at JFK…not our favorite airport, but it’s home. We figured it was clear sailing until we got to United and found that, although we had reservations, we had no seat assignments and the flight was overbooked. We threw a fit and finally got seats on the plane only to find that they couldn’t get clearance in Boston because of fog. So we sat and sat and sat and tried to figure out if we should grab our bags and head to LaGuardia. We finally got a window for take-off and the pilot and crew missed it so it was back to the terminal and off the plane and another ½ hour wait until they shoved us back on the plane and finally took off. It was a really interesting landing but we were home…. no luggage…but home….

A day in Moscow

Our tour started with the changing of the guards and a tour of the Kremlin, the Armory and the Churches.

The Armory is now converted into a museum complete with carriages, gold armor and costumes from the Czars. The church mural showed all foreigners and Europeans going to hell-only the Russian Orthodox to heaven

St Basil’s actually has 9 churches inside.
We visited Lenin—he’s still there. The strangest thing is to see the brides visiting the mausoleum.

Lunch at McDonalds

We had another evening with the hookers. John liked the blonde- with cascading locks and a madonna-esque quality (he particularly liked the long dress- with the slit to her waist and nothing underneath).
Moscow is a mystery—the most expensive city in the world—but who’s making the money?
Beers:
China: 40 cents/pint
Turkmenistan: $2/any drink
Uzbekistan: $1-2/beer
Moscow: $5/beer

On to Moscow

A 5:00am start for our flight to Moscow. Customs was fairly easy- except for the Uighur knife, which caused a major fuss with the customs agents. – not because of it’s potential danger as a weapon but because it was hand-made!
Turkoman Air was an experience - smoking in the bathrooms, squatting on the toilets, and guys with WWII medals.
We flew into the local Moscow field vs. the international airport. The plane landed and we saw the pilot follow a car with a sign that said, “Follow Me” directing the plane in.
John tried to play “beat the bags” to beat out an old lady with a cane who pushed her way through both airports
Our hotel definitely had the Soviet stench. Nothing was easy. We tried to change money- the sign said “No cash”. Our guide said, “What can I say, it’s Russia”.

New Russians are short, fat; they wear suits and are always talking on cell phones. The Mafia is “the roof”.
We had a driving tour though Moscow and saw the Kremlin, St Basil’s and a full tour around the city. John found a “McStalin” watch and a “McLenin” T-shirt (the back says, “The Party is Over”).

Once back at the hotel, we got money and a cold beer then headed out on the Moscow metro. It was actually quite attractive—every stop has a different theme.
On to the Intourist Hotel and the Tex-Mex restaurant on the 20th floor. We were saved by our waitress- a girl from Kenya studying medicine. She brought us pitchers of margaritas. After dinner, we headed to the hotel lobby and found it filled with long legged hookers.
We walked around Moscow and found more hookers strolling.
Back at the hotel, we decided to grab a beer before bed and watch the steady parade of hookers in the lobby bar. We decided that they must get the rooms with the a/c and the double beds.
Notes:
* Every commercial establishment has a security guard at the door
* Old women stand on the street selling cigarettes, cokes and beers---it’s all a matter of what you’ve got to sell.
* Guys everywhere walk around drinking beer at all hours of the day.

A day in Ashkabad

A day in Ashkabad. The bazaar was a sight filled with the local Turkmen tribe, the Tekke, wearing their giant, shaggy hats.

Their ancestors were famous for horse breeding and carpet making and notorious for slave-raids on desert caravans. At the bazaar, we managed to find two local outfits for me and Turkoman hats for John and Martin.

From the bazaar, we headed to Nisa, seat of the Parthian kings from the late 3rd C BC to the early 3rd C AD. It was very hot and we had an overly enthusiastic guide.

Ashkabad is a modern city, largely due to the earthquake of 1929, which leveled the city. Today, there are miles of fountains and public parks.
We blew off the group and went to “Florida” for burgers and beers. There is no a/c anywhere and these people don’t seem to feel the heat.
We went back to our air-conditioned room and had beer and cheese and crackers.
Our group “farewell dinner” was at an Iranian restaurant, “Diamond Restaurant” complete with Russian dancing and Iranian kebabs. It must be our transition to Moscow.
That night we got regular calls from hookers in our hotel, “Marco, is that you?”

A day trip to Merv

A full day without the group—the two of us and Jack took off on another internal flight. This one was much less traumatic without baggage and only 50 minutes of flying time.
For three tourists, we were overloaded with guides—from the tour director in Ashkabad who drove us to the airport to our guide who got us on the plane to the local guide who met us in Merv to the local museum with another guide. The museum Deputy Director took us on a personal tour through the museum. It was wonderfully done and she was an enthusiastic guide. They have a Zoroastrian center—focused on Margush, a 2nd millenium BC town. We also bought two old Turkoman photos from her and she gave us a fertility/prosperity figurine.
Local tradition = tying a cloth in the shape of a cradle to a tree to help conceive a child

Then onto Merv (Mary) scattered over hundreds of acres of desert lie the remains of the walls and ramparts of old Merv, the ‘pearl of the East’, second city of Islam after Baghdad between the 8th to 13th Centuries. It was also site of one of the most horrific slaughters in all of the Mongols’ rampages. Genghis Khans’ son Toloi arrived in January 1221 and spent 6 days preparing to besiege the city with catapults and battering rams. On the 7th day, Merv’s governor surrendered on the understanding that his people would be spared. As they evacuated the city, they were all slain. Each Mongol soldier had orders to behead between 300-400 inhabitants. Almost 1 million died in the initial massacre. Then the buildings were destroyed and Toloi’s army withdrew. Just when the survivors thought it safe to return, the Mongols trapped them in their ruined city and butchered them, too.
A writer in 1990 wrote,
“As I gazed across the barren brown plain of the Turkmen, it seemed to me that pictures of Hiroshima after the atom bomb did not more clearly illustrate what happens when a place is razed to the ground”.

Note: They cut the ears and tails off their dogs so they can stave off wolves.

Turkmenistan Map and Route

From Uzbekistan to Turkmenistan- Another Flying adventure

What a drive- we saw kids swimming in drainage ditches and factories closed.
The border crossing from Uzbekistan to Turkmenistan was a snap.
With time before our flight, we took at trip to Konya-Urgench.

We visited the Torebeg Khanym mausoleum, built in the 14th C as the family tomb of a Sufi dynasty. Across the road is the Kutlug Temir minaret, the only surviving part of the main mosque built in the 1320’s. Further along were the Sultan Tekesh mausoleum and the Il-Arslan mausoleum.
Back to the airport for our flight on Turkmenistan Air. The terminal was filled with swallows and not a single airline on the field- but 26 commercial bi-planes. Women were openly nursing children; another woman was bringing her chicken on board.

We met a 30-year-old woman with two children…the youngest was 18 months. She and her husband were taking their five-year-old daughter to the hospital in Ashkabad. “She can’t go” was her explanation—the little girls’ legs are deformed… We gave her a bubble pen and some tootsie roll pops and were rewarded with the most wonderful smile.

We finally made it onto the plane. The seat was wet from the sweat of the previous passenger and the engines wouldn’t start. We watched as they took a garden hose and sprayed it directly into the engine. The woman across the aisle fed us wonderful homemade sweets.

We landed safely. As we headed towards the exit, we gave the woman with her daughter a bag filled with treats and snacks and a $10 bill. We watched them walk away—with their two kids and only one plastic bag as luggage.
We headed to our hotel on the Las Vegas like strip of Ashkabad.
The city of filled with “Turkmanbashi” posters, statues and signs. Their President has a real love affair with himself

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Note- in 2002, this was reported:

"Turkmenistan's flamboyant President Saparmurat Niyazov, after whom cities, airports and even a meteorite have been named, has proposed a new honor for himself -- the month of January will now bear his name.
Niyazov, officially known as Turkmenbashi, or Head of all the Turkmen, but usually known as Turkmenbashi the Great, proposed that January be renamed Turkmenbashi at a meeting of the People's Council, the country's highest consultative body. "

Khiva - The Desert City

Khiva—we finally got it; it’s a state run museum town set up during Soviet times. They’ve sanitized the heart out of this city.

While it’s one of the best preserved cities of Central Asia, you need imagination to get any sense of its’ mystique, bustle and squalor of Khiva in its heyday. It was once known for slave caravans, barbaric cruelty and wild tribesmen.


A half-day city tour. Khiva became more interesting with a guide. She explained the horrible torture methods used. Everyone was killed on Friday, the Holy Day, in the square in front of the mosque.
Lots more mosques and madressas and John bought a local Uzbek hat in the market.
Our guide arranged for us to have dinner in a local home. It’s a strange custom- you can pay to have dinner in a private home or pay to ride in someone’s’ personal car vs. a taxi…
The town improved with time especially once we went back to John’s Cool Bar, literally the only cool place in town with cold beers and a cold room.
Dinner was great—plov and soup and salad and nuts…a traditional Uzbek meal.
Before bed, we sat outside by John’s Cool Bar with the local guys, drinking Bavarias. We finally got the bar man to take a tip and he reciprocated with one of their hand carved cutting boards.
Back at the hotel, we talked to one of the staff…she works in the hotel from 7am to 11pm, 7 days a week…just to have enough to eat…

Bukhara to Khiva

Another 6:30 am start. This time the window started to fall out of the shake and bake.
We arrived in the “museum city” of Khiva at 2:00, driving from 7-2. It was really hot…
It was a search for lunch in this deserted town. We finally found a cool spot in the Hotel Khiva bar and convinced the bar man to get us some eggs and a cold beer.
After lunch, it was time to walk the city. Not a great first impression: a cab driver tried to charge us $10 to drive 6 blocks. We found someone who took us for free. Then a guy tried to charge me 50 soms to pee. We threatened to take him to Intourist and he backed off. Everywhere, there were kids asking for pens and gum. Tourist pollution is here!
This place was a pit and we realized that we were stuck here for two days and two nights…. hot, dusty and boring.
We caved in on group dinner---there was no where else open.
We’re in the hottest spot on the globe and our rooms don’t have a/c….

Exploring Bukhara

AM- It was a group tour to the Ark and to the Summer Palace. The Ark, a royal town within a town, is Bukhara’s oldest structure with a Reception and Coronation Court, royal stables, royal apartments and the most famous, the Zindon (the emir’s jail). The attractions include a torture chamber and several dungeons, including the notorious “bug pit” where the British prisoners, Stoddard and Connolly languished in the 1800’s.
The Summer Palace, Sitorai-Mokhi-Khosa, built in the 19th C was a gaudy royal residence where the emirs of Bukhara summered.
We had lunch at our guide’s’ aunts’ house—great plov and fresh fruit.

By this time, we were in overload from too much group mode…so we escaped to the madressa. Cold beer and cold wine. The bar man was so proud that he “got it right”.
Jack came over to meet with our young friend to talk about college opportunities.
We asked him for help finding a good place for dinner and he directed us to a great local place by the pool. We invited him to join us and had a great dinner with this 16-year old- discussing history, decisions made during WWII…. an amazing kid. After dinner, as we were heading back to the hotel, he asked us to come back to his shop and gave us a plate that he made for us. He stayed up all night getting it ready and personally inscribed.

The “barman” let us know that he’s “not a barman, he’s a craftsman”. We bought one of his brass trays and he was so happy, he gave us a pair of earrings that his daughter made.

To Bukhara

The "Shake and Bake"

It was a 6:30 am start on the drive to Bukhara—the shake and bake with 1000 flies.
We had a group lunch at the Madressa near the hotel. then blew off the group again and did our own walking tour through the city. We found a Ferris wheel in the park and got a birds eye view of the city on the top. It was hot hot hot!

While Samarkand is a brilliant blue, Bukhara is all shades of brown.

“Samarkand is the beauty of the earth, but Bukhara is the beauty of the spirit”
We stayed in the center of the old city, near the pool and square called Labi-hauz built in 1620.

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On the east side is a statue of Hoja Nasruddin, a semi-mythical “wise fool” who appears in Sufi teaching tales around the world. At the Nadir Divanbegi madressa we got quasi-cold beers and talked with the 16-year-old son of one of the shop owners.

This bright kid knows 5 languages and is studying college level courses. Plus- he understood the concept of cold beer and communicated it to the bar owner.

Looking for the perfect sunset view, we headed to the Hotel Bukhara’s roof deck. Once again, we had an empty roof deck with a good view. We watched the staff spitting water on the tablecloths to make them taut. The waitress could spray water from her mouth with the full force of a spray bottle. This place was too depressing, so we headed back to the madressa and spent more time with our new friend. Great food, good company.

Note- the museum staff tries to sell you stuff as you walk through the exhibits
People seem honestly surprised to see Americans.
Our hotel is an old, converted Jewish merchants 16C house—the doors are miniatures…

Samarkand to Tajikistan

Swervin’ Mervin, the van driver took us to Tajikistan this morning. There was a major focus on leaving all of your money and valuables behind-concern with the border crossings and police stops. The border crossing was no problem.

We went across the border and visited the local museum. Since the country has been in a civil war since 1992, we couldn’t go much further than the border towns.

Back to Samarkand and we walked back towards the hotel, stopping for a cold beer at the local tea house—complete with a falcon, fornicating peacocks and a kid killing flies on the beef hanging at his stand with a fly swatter.

We decided to try the Russian restaurant recommendation from last night and grabbed a cab. Once again, we were the only ones in the restaurant so we walked in and when they tried to sell us a bottle of wine for $15, we decided to walk out—to the local dive next door.

An Armenian family ran a street side grill—Mom was sewing, Dad cooking shaslik over a wood fire and their daughter practiced her English on us. We had a great meal of grill chicken (shshlik), green beans and beers.

Samarkand - Crashing Iskander’s Birthday Party

The sights of Samarkand
“Everything I have heard about the beauty of Samarkand is true- except that it is even more beautiful than I could have imagined” Alexander the Great, 329 BC
The city is truly beautiful- domes and minarets. Most of the sights are the work of Timur (Tamerlane), his grandson Ulughbek and the Uzbek Shaybanids.

Our first stop was the Gur-Emir Mausoleum, the tomb of Tamarlane, two sons and two grandsons. In the center of the mausoleum is Timur’s dark-green jade tomb.

A Soviet anthropologist opened the crypts in 1941 and confirmed that Timur was tall and lame in the right leg and that Ulughbek died from being beheaded. According to legend, he found on Timur’s grave an inscription to the effect that “whoever opens this will be defeated by an enemy more fearsome than I.’ The next day, June 22, Hitler attached the Soviet Union.

At Bibi-Karim Mosque, the skies began to turn very dark, the wind came up and we were caught in a huge storm. The locals claim that the strange weather is because of the nuclear testing in Pakistan.
Legend says that Bibi-Kyanym, Timur’s Chinese wife ordered the mosque built as a surprise while he was away. The architect fell madly in love with her and refused to finish the job unless he could give her a kiss. The kiss left a mark and Timur, on seeing it, executed the architect and decreed that women should thenceforth wear veils so as not to tempt other men.

We had lunch at the Afro-Saib Hotel then headed off to the Registan… Ulug Bek, Sher dor, and Tilla Kari.

The Registan is one of the most wonderful sights in Central Asia. Its’ name means “place of sand”- it was strewn on the ground to soak up the blood from the public executions that were held here until early this century. It was here that Tamerlane stuck his victims’ heads on spikes. It was medieval Samarkand’s commercial center and at one time was probably filled with vendors and a huge bazaar. The Soviets have done significant restoration but the bazaar is gone.

The Ulugbek medressa on the west side is the oldest, finished in 1420 under Ulugbek (who is said to have taught mathematics, theology, astronomy and philosophy there).

The Sher Dor (Tiger) medressa was finished in 1636 and is decorated with roaring tigers, against the Islamic prohibition against the depiction of living things.

In between is the Tilla-Kari (Gold-Covered) medressa completed in 1660, with a garden courtyard.

Then it was on to UlugBek’s Observatory. Ulugbek, the grandson of Tamerlane, was less interested in conquering the earth than the starts.

His was the best-equipped observatory in the medieval world with a 3-story observatory that he built in the 1420’s. “Where knowledge starts, religion ends”.
Just outside the city is a site called Afro Saib, after a Sogdian king, the ruins of ancient Samarkand.

The Museum had no lights so Tammy got her flashlight. Later we discovered that it held some of the greatest treasures in the country. John found a green shard from the sacking of ancient Samarkand/Afro Saib by Genghis Khan (Sogdian capital)

One of the most moving sites in Samarkand is the street of tombs called the Acropolis—Shah-I-Zinda….the second Mecca. The name, which means Tomb of the Living King, is a complex of rooms around the grave of Qusam ibn-Abbas, a cousin of Muhammad, who is thought to have brought Islam to the region.

After we got dropped off in the market, Jack and John negotiated for a trail mix selection of raisins, pine nuts and dried apricots.
We wandered our way back to the Hotel Samarkand and we had a bottle of wine ($2) and watched “The Bold and the Beautiful” on the TV in the bar. The hotel restaurant isn’t open at night…. so we asked the guide for a restaurant recommendation. She gave us three choices and said that the bar man would take us in a cab to show us the options. So, we hopped in a taxi and drove to three boring Russian restaurants…linen tablecloths, candles and no patrons. Little Moscow! We hopped back in the cab after the third drive-by and asked the driver if he knows of a local Uzbek place. John says, “Screw the Russians” and the bar man and driver broke out in laughter. At that point, they took down the street.

We drove for a long time and got to a local restaurant by the bar man’s house. Unfortunately, there was a huge banquet going on …live music, traditional dancer. The bar man talked to the hosts and they invited us to join them. He found the semi-English speaking son of the guest of honor (Uktam)…sat us at a table piled with plates of food and bottles of vodka and cognac.

They seemed to find us quite amusing and brought us up to the dance floor with the main tables and guest of honor. With video and still cameras going, we attempted to do a traditional Uzbek dance with the guests. The party was for Iskander’s birthday. He was the head of cotton production for Uzbekistan and the main floor was filled with important looking officials.

John caught the eye of the “life of the party” and was dragged into multiple dances with the large Russian woman.

Finally, we were asked to give a toast. As we walked up, they handed the microphone to me and I was forced to give a toast (complete with interpreter). Handing the microphone to John, he commented, “In America, the women do all the talking for the men”. The interpreter looks at us in panic and said, “I can’t say that….” By this time, our bar man was back to take us home….what an evening!
Note- older Uzbeks drink like Russians (the over 35 crowd). Under 35, there’s a major divide- no drinking.