Hello, all. Surprise, surprise: the genius Oscar has somehow pieced together an email connection out of the crippled and frustrating information infrastructure, so I actually can send a message! Receiving is a problem, however. Can't really expect much more. This is one of the most remote nations in the world; Andy has informed me that it is the only country landlocked by TWO nations on every side.
I'm sure many of you haven't heard of Uzbekistan. It's west of China and north of India, and is just one country (Kazakstan) south of the middle of Russia. New maps should have it, and supposedly the New York Times runs about an article a week on the place. It was a member of the former Soviet Union, and most people here are fluent in Russian as a second language. The native tongue, Uzbek, was initially written in Arabic, then in Latin script, then in Russian, and now they want to change it back to Latin. It's got a semblance of modernity, at least in Jizzak, and in Tashkent, the Uzbek capital, which was in fact the fourth largest city in the former USSR after Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Kiev. In Tashkent you can get pizza and satellite dishes and the like, but it hasn't much culture of which to speak. The real culture is to be found in the old cities of Samarkand and Bukhara and Khiva, which I shall visit this upcoming week. The Uzbek people look rather like Eskimos, which sort of makes sense since this is just about exactly the position most conveniently situated near the land bridge to America during the last Ice Age.
Lisa Sharfstein and Andy Baram have been kind enough to host me and point me or guide me to the best places here. They're living with a host family now, Fizucul and Tamara and their three boys and youngest girl. Fizucul is some sort of businessman and deals in marble slabs and chick peas and vodka, while Tamara assumes the traditional Uzbek role (imposed upon Lisa much to her chagrin) of staying home and doing the chores and managing the children and cooking. She is extremely maternal and very e doors, but they might not shut. Or open. They have lights, but might not have bulbs. They have manholes, and even covers, but they might not support your weight.
But the people are very sweet. They are interested in the world, and in conversing. One of the first questions asked of me by females is whether I'm married (an unmarried American? what a prize!). They want to know about the United States and the people and my home town and my family. Some of Lisa's and Andy's students are very hard working, so there is some hope that their nation will improve and grow into its independence by giving the people independence individually.
I haven't been hassled once by any authorities. Even my arrival was smooth as silk. Course, I was the only one going through customs. The flight from Delhi connected through Tashkent to London, and everyone else on the plane was continuing on this cheap flight except me. The plane was a bit sketchy, that is, it had the feeling of a sketch with perhaps a few of the details missing: like the supports on the seats and on the trays, the adhesive for the carpet, the lubricant for the armrests. The pilot seemed okay, and the landing was smoother than most normal airlines, but the engine's sounds made me think if I ever prayed now would be the time. The scenery, an arm of the Himalayan mountains, was a glory to pass above, and would be a fine final resting place should it come to that, which it didn't. We'll see on the return trip.
In the meantime, I go to see what miracle the host-mother has conjured for dinner.
Khayr,
-xaq