See here for Part 1 of my Uzbekistan trip
The Sunday after we arrived in Uzbekistan was what I had been looking forward to the most; a trip to Samarkand, a city along the former silk road which had been ruled by the Greeks (Alexander the Great), Persians (Jake Gyllenhaal), Turks (Gobble Gobble), and Mongols (Genghis Khan) over the past 2500 years. With that "who's who" list of visitors, I figured I had to add my name. The guys in the office arranged the train tickets and guide in Samarkand for us - all we had to do was go downstairs in the hotel and get in the taxi to the train station. After a 2 hour train ride, our guide, Sukhrob picked us up and took us around the city.
Suhrob is a native Tajik (from Tajikistan, which is a country, duh), but also speaks Russian, Uzbek, Italian and English. It must come in handy for a guide to speak multiple languages, especially in this part of the world where many tourists don't speak English. He said we could call him Sebastian...not because it's the Uzbek or Tajik version of his name, but simply because he likes it. He didn't expect us to be able to pronounce Sukhrob. I insisted on calling him by his name, because that's his name. I don't really ask people to call me Voltron, even though I like the name. Maybe I should start. Anyway, Sebastian...oops, I mean Sukhrob is Muslim, like most of the country, but a relaxed one. Since Uzbekistan was in the USSR, and the Soviet Union basically squashed their religious practices, people became much more relaxed in their practice of religion. They consider themselves Muslim, but don't follow all of the rules. For example, he eats bacon and drinks alcohol, two of life's most important indulgences, and his kids look forward to receiving gifts from Santa Claus every year.
I wonder if Donald Trump and his followers think a bacon-eating, beer-drinking, Santa-celebrating Muslim from Uzbekistan is a threat to US national security.
One of the main industries of Uzbekistan is cotton. In fact, they export the second largest amount of cotton of any country in the world. Sukhrob and other locals told us about how they used to have "cotton picking camps" during harvesting periods when they were in school. The industry needed all the hands it could get, so the government "strongly encouraged" them to participate, allowing them to miss school. At first I thought this was pretty cool and would be a lot of fun, and it would teach the kids how to appreciate this important industry. But the idea of forced child labor is another story...imagine if we forced kids to skip school and go work in the tobacco fields or coal mines during peak season? Oh wait...
During the day he took us to several fascinating sites around the city, which we wouldn't have managed without his help. You definitely need a car and a guide in this city:
We noticed that at every site there was a guy standing in the parking lot collecting money from every car. I thought these were official parking lot attendants, but Sukhrob said that the guys just claim a lot and collect the money for themselves, in exchange for "looking after" your car. If you pay them, they won't mess with your stuff. The average amount he gave them was about 30 cents, so I guess it's a small price to pay...but still annoying when random dudes insist you give them money.
The most important thing that Sukhrob introduced me to was plov. Plov is pilaf, or rice. The food itself is pretty good: rice, lamb and sliced carrots, but you can also get deluxe versions with a boiled egg and a slice of horse sausage. It's a pretty heavy dish, going back several hundred years, originally feeding the hungry soldiers in the cold winters. These days it's more of an institution, not just a meal. Surely every family has their own recipe and tradition, and the neighboring countries also do something similar.
It seems that every city has a Plov Center. A Plov Center is not really a restaurant. It's more like a canteen. There is no menu. It's simply a place to eat plov, and only plov. You go in and tell them how much plov you want, and if you want it with the extra garnishes. There are huge cauldrons cooking tons of plov, sometimes in the open so the customers can see what their $2 will buy them. It would be like if we had Mac and Cheese Centers around the US, which only served macaroni and cheese from huge vats. I could go to the downtown Seattle "MaCC" (that's a catchy name, I should trademark it), and order a mac and cheese with a boiled egg and hot dog on the side. That would be pretty awesome if I wasn't lactose intolerant. At the plov center, they also give each table a large loaf of fresh bread, which was really tasty, despite the fact that everyone touches the loaf with their bare hands, including the waiter. Someone at the table will instinctively tear the bread into pieces so everyone can share. It reminded me of when I was a kid and we used to eat at the Old Spaghetti Factory. I used to tear up the bread for my parents (ok, that's a lie...I was just tearing it up so I could eat it), and they'd yell at me for touching it with dirty hands. And if I haven't said it already, plov is delicious. You know it's authentic and a source of national pride when the locals actually eat it, and there's even a bit of a ceremony around it. Let's be honest, nobody would eat at a Mac and Cheese Center.
Plov is also prevalent in the big events in people's lives: the birth of a child, a wedding, or even a death. Every new groom will host a plov party on the morning of their wedding, to invite their family and friends, including many who aren't invited to the actual wedding. People come to enjoy a hearty meal (which will make them full for a week), say hello, then go about their day. Sometimes plov parties can have 1500 people and start at 5am(!), though supposedly "they" are trying to encourage people to start after 7am, because, you know, that's more reasonable (I don't know who "they" are, but maybe there's some Plov Police, or maybe this is a topic that the local government actually discusses). I just want to repeat: 1500 people eating plov at 5am!?!?
After an action packed weekend, we had to actually work. Even the earthquake in Tajikstan which we felt in the office on Monday morning couldn't stop us. The guys in the office were super friendly and helpful. They insisted on taking us to lunch and dinner every day. These guys have families at home, but they insisted on being the best possible hosts. They'd take us on what they called a "quick lunch", but it required a 15 minute drive across town, a proper sit down meal, then a drive back, maybe including a stop at the market or bazaar. If a "quick lunch" is 2 hours, a long lunch probably takes the whole week. Then there was a short 2 or 3 hour dinner, when we were still full from lunch (especially after plov). In short, it was amazing. Basically we spent every waking hour with them, to the point that I really missed them during the next week when I was back in Warsaw. Everyone spoke perfect English with me, or Russian with Inna, and Uzbek with each other. They were warm, friendly, and treated us like long time friends. Plus they had a cool elevator in the office. You could un-do a floor selection by pressing the button again! What?! How innovative! Ok, so that's not such a big deal, but really, I've never seen it before. It's so simple, I wonder why it's not more common. With all of the wonderful experiences and people that we met in Uzbekistan, there's only one thing that they don't have: the joy of pressing all of the buttons in an elevator and running out giggling (don't pretend you've never done that before).
The Sunday after we arrived in Uzbekistan was what I had been looking forward to the most; a trip to Samarkand, a city along the former silk road which had been ruled by the Greeks (Alexander the Great), Persians (Jake Gyllenhaal), Turks (Gobble Gobble), and Mongols (Genghis Khan) over the past 2500 years. With that "who's who" list of visitors, I figured I had to add my name. The guys in the office arranged the train tickets and guide in Samarkand for us - all we had to do was go downstairs in the hotel and get in the taxi to the train station. After a 2 hour train ride, our guide, Sukhrob picked us up and took us around the city.
I wonder if Donald Trump and his followers think a bacon-eating, beer-drinking, Santa-celebrating Muslim from Uzbekistan is a threat to US national security.
Sukhrob teaching me how to count money. Trump would like it.
One of the main industries of Uzbekistan is cotton. In fact, they export the second largest amount of cotton of any country in the world. Sukhrob and other locals told us about how they used to have "cotton picking camps" during harvesting periods when they were in school. The industry needed all the hands it could get, so the government "strongly encouraged" them to participate, allowing them to miss school. At first I thought this was pretty cool and would be a lot of fun, and it would teach the kids how to appreciate this important industry. But the idea of forced child labor is another story...imagine if we forced kids to skip school and go work in the tobacco fields or coal mines during peak season? Oh wait...
During the day he took us to several fascinating sites around the city, which we wouldn't have managed without his help. You definitely need a car and a guide in this city:
Registan - humongous buildings (Islam schools from the 1400s) in a humongouser square
Amir Temur Mausoleum, where their 14th century ruler (aka Tamerlane) is buried
The necropolis where the cousin of THE Muhammed in buried (he brought Islam to Uzbekistan in the 7th century)
Ulugh Beg observatory museum, the site of a 15th century astronomical observatory, which was destroyed by religious fanatics and re-discovered over 400 years later.
We noticed that at every site there was a guy standing in the parking lot collecting money from every car. I thought these were official parking lot attendants, but Sukhrob said that the guys just claim a lot and collect the money for themselves, in exchange for "looking after" your car. If you pay them, they won't mess with your stuff. The average amount he gave them was about 30 cents, so I guess it's a small price to pay...but still annoying when random dudes insist you give them money.
The most important thing that Sukhrob introduced me to was plov. Plov is pilaf, or rice. The food itself is pretty good: rice, lamb and sliced carrots, but you can also get deluxe versions with a boiled egg and a slice of horse sausage. It's a pretty heavy dish, going back several hundred years, originally feeding the hungry soldiers in the cold winters. These days it's more of an institution, not just a meal. Surely every family has their own recipe and tradition, and the neighboring countries also do something similar.
My first plov - so beautiful
Plov Center in Tashkent
You can take it to go
The deluxe version
You can buy bread on the side of the road, pre-touched by dirty hands
Plov is also prevalent in the big events in people's lives: the birth of a child, a wedding, or even a death. Every new groom will host a plov party on the morning of their wedding, to invite their family and friends, including many who aren't invited to the actual wedding. People come to enjoy a hearty meal (which will make them full for a week), say hello, then go about their day. Sometimes plov parties can have 1500 people and start at 5am(!), though supposedly "they" are trying to encourage people to start after 7am, because, you know, that's more reasonable (I don't know who "they" are, but maybe there's some Plov Police, or maybe this is a topic that the local government actually discusses). I just want to repeat: 1500 people eating plov at 5am!?!?
These guys enjoy their plov. The just don't always show it.
After an action packed weekend, we had to actually work. Even the earthquake in Tajikstan which we felt in the office on Monday morning couldn't stop us. The guys in the office were super friendly and helpful. They insisted on taking us to lunch and dinner every day. These guys have families at home, but they insisted on being the best possible hosts. They'd take us on what they called a "quick lunch", but it required a 15 minute drive across town, a proper sit down meal, then a drive back, maybe including a stop at the market or bazaar. If a "quick lunch" is 2 hours, a long lunch probably takes the whole week. Then there was a short 2 or 3 hour dinner, when we were still full from lunch (especially after plov). In short, it was amazing. Basically we spent every waking hour with them, to the point that I really missed them during the next week when I was back in Warsaw. Everyone spoke perfect English with me, or Russian with Inna, and Uzbek with each other. They were warm, friendly, and treated us like long time friends. Plus they had a cool elevator in the office. You could un-do a floor selection by pressing the button again! What?! How innovative! Ok, so that's not such a big deal, but really, I've never seen it before. It's so simple, I wonder why it's not more common. With all of the wonderful experiences and people that we met in Uzbekistan, there's only one thing that they don't have: the joy of pressing all of the buttons in an elevator and running out giggling (don't pretend you've never done that before).
This isn't gonna end well...
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