Monday, September 29, 2003
diebold voting machines
at the agonist there is an excellent essay explaining in detail the diebold voting machine controversy. go read it
Sunday, September 28, 2003
still adjusting
with each new post, i push another uzbekistan post into the archives. it just seems to be hitting me over the head with the fact that my trip is fading into the past. i keep resisting the urge to add more posts about my trip. on a vacation like that virtually every moment is some weird wonderful unique experience, so there is plenty that went unmentioned here.
when i started this blog, i really wasn't sure what i would do with it. the blogs i read (and still read) vaguely fell into two categories, political blogs (like atrios, to name one example) and on-line diary type blogs (like sarah's). i wasn't sure which direction i would go. over time, i have decided that this blog will just be my forum for venting about whatever is going on in my mind at the time of my post. i am a very political person, so often it will be political rants, but not always. at times, things have come up in my life that have brought up memories of prior trips and stories from those travels have crept into my writing here (like this post), but i do not want to dwell endlessly on the two weeks a year that i am not in the country. the other 50 weeks are noteworthy too. when i first get back i have to force myself to look ahead, not just behind. its part of the adjustment to being back.
at some point in the future, i am sure that something will remind me of an anecdote from my travels in uzbekistan and that will trigger an uzbek-related post here. but i am going to try to give it a rest for now.
when i started this blog, i really wasn't sure what i would do with it. the blogs i read (and still read) vaguely fell into two categories, political blogs (like atrios, to name one example) and on-line diary type blogs (like sarah's). i wasn't sure which direction i would go. over time, i have decided that this blog will just be my forum for venting about whatever is going on in my mind at the time of my post. i am a very political person, so often it will be political rants, but not always. at times, things have come up in my life that have brought up memories of prior trips and stories from those travels have crept into my writing here (like this post), but i do not want to dwell endlessly on the two weeks a year that i am not in the country. the other 50 weeks are noteworthy too. when i first get back i have to force myself to look ahead, not just behind. its part of the adjustment to being back.
at some point in the future, i am sure that something will remind me of an anecdote from my travels in uzbekistan and that will trigger an uzbek-related post here. but i am going to try to give it a rest for now.
disturbing
the big news fluttering around the blogisphere these days is the story about how the c.i.a. has asked for an investigation of the white house to find out who outed valerie plame as a c.i.a. agent. for those of you who are not political blog junkies, here's a recap:
plame is the wife of joseph wilson. wilson is the guy who caused the "niger yellowcake" controversy over the summer, when he revealed that: (1) he was the one who investigated whether iraq sought to obtain uranium from niger, (2) his investigation revealed that the story was false, and (3) the bush administration was informed of his conclusions before bush's state of the union address that cited the niger story as a reason to invade iraq. the obtaining-uranium-from-niger story has previously been revealed to be bogus, but wilson showed that the bush administration knew it was bogus before the president delivered the state of the union address, but he put it in anyway.
shortly after the story broke, conservative columnist bob novak revealed that wilson's wife, valerie plame, was a c.i.a. agent. i briefly commented on the matter last july in this post, noting that outing a c.i.a. agent was a federal crime.
that's the recap.
so on friday, the c.i.a. concluded its own investigation of the matter and determined that it was likely that someone in the administration had committed a federal crime by outing plame. the c.i.a., however, does not have prosecutorial power, so it referred the matter to the justice department for investigation and possible prosecution. in a washington post story about the matter it says that "a senior administration official said that before Novak's column ran, two top White House officials called at least six Washington journalists and disclosed the identity and occupation of Wilson's wife." in other words, the bush administration made several efforts to out plame before they were successful with novak. the washington post story quotes that same senior official as saying "Clearly, it was meant purely and simply for revenge." i.e. outing plame was retaliation against her husband for going public with the niger yellowcake story.
this whole thing is a really big deal, and potentially very serious. i have no idea who leaked what, but as atrios notes, a "senior administration official" is someone pretty high up in the administration--cabinet level or higher. serious heads could roll if this is taken seriously by the justice department and thus several news organizations have picked up on it aside from the washington post, such as nbc, cbs, and even fox news has brought it up. you know it's a big story if even fox runs something that is so potentially damaging to the administration.
but i just finished reading the new york times this morning and this is nothing about this story. i realize as a national paper, the nyt goes to press pretty early to get its sunday edition out, but this story broke on friday and it is disturbing that it does not merit any mention anywhere in the paper. this is especially true when you consider that the c.i.a. is referring the matter to the justice department, which is run by john ashcroft. ashcroft, as a senior member of the administration himself, has everything to gain by not prosecuting the matter. it's cases like these that are the reason that the independent prosecutor office was created in the 70s. however the independent prosecutor law has lapsed and unless a new one is passed, we must rely on ashcroft to do the right thing. the only way he will do that is if there is enough public interest in this story to keep him honest. which is why i am so bothered by the fact that it goes unmentioned in today's times.
UPDATE: the above was referring to the print edition of the sunday times. there's a story on the new york times web site right now. it was apparently posted at 12:24 this afternoon. i look forward to seeing how prominent the story is in the print edition tomorrow morning.
plame is the wife of joseph wilson. wilson is the guy who caused the "niger yellowcake" controversy over the summer, when he revealed that: (1) he was the one who investigated whether iraq sought to obtain uranium from niger, (2) his investigation revealed that the story was false, and (3) the bush administration was informed of his conclusions before bush's state of the union address that cited the niger story as a reason to invade iraq. the obtaining-uranium-from-niger story has previously been revealed to be bogus, but wilson showed that the bush administration knew it was bogus before the president delivered the state of the union address, but he put it in anyway.
shortly after the story broke, conservative columnist bob novak revealed that wilson's wife, valerie plame, was a c.i.a. agent. i briefly commented on the matter last july in this post, noting that outing a c.i.a. agent was a federal crime.
that's the recap.
so on friday, the c.i.a. concluded its own investigation of the matter and determined that it was likely that someone in the administration had committed a federal crime by outing plame. the c.i.a., however, does not have prosecutorial power, so it referred the matter to the justice department for investigation and possible prosecution. in a washington post story about the matter it says that "a senior administration official said that before Novak's column ran, two top White House officials called at least six Washington journalists and disclosed the identity and occupation of Wilson's wife." in other words, the bush administration made several efforts to out plame before they were successful with novak. the washington post story quotes that same senior official as saying "Clearly, it was meant purely and simply for revenge." i.e. outing plame was retaliation against her husband for going public with the niger yellowcake story.
this whole thing is a really big deal, and potentially very serious. i have no idea who leaked what, but as atrios notes, a "senior administration official" is someone pretty high up in the administration--cabinet level or higher. serious heads could roll if this is taken seriously by the justice department and thus several news organizations have picked up on it aside from the washington post, such as nbc, cbs, and even fox news has brought it up. you know it's a big story if even fox runs something that is so potentially damaging to the administration.
but i just finished reading the new york times this morning and this is nothing about this story. i realize as a national paper, the nyt goes to press pretty early to get its sunday edition out, but this story broke on friday and it is disturbing that it does not merit any mention anywhere in the paper. this is especially true when you consider that the c.i.a. is referring the matter to the justice department, which is run by john ashcroft. ashcroft, as a senior member of the administration himself, has everything to gain by not prosecuting the matter. it's cases like these that are the reason that the independent prosecutor office was created in the 70s. however the independent prosecutor law has lapsed and unless a new one is passed, we must rely on ashcroft to do the right thing. the only way he will do that is if there is enough public interest in this story to keep him honest. which is why i am so bothered by the fact that it goes unmentioned in today's times.
UPDATE: the above was referring to the print edition of the sunday times. there's a story on the new york times web site right now. it was apparently posted at 12:24 this afternoon. i look forward to seeing how prominent the story is in the print edition tomorrow morning.
Saturday, September 27, 2003
stupid quote of the day
according to representative candice miller:
so in a two party system, how does that make sense?
Michigan will be a critical state [in the 2004 election], the president does not have to win Michigan in order for him to be re-elected, but a Democrat can't win without Michigan.
so in a two party system, how does that make sense?
rise in poverty, loss of income
politics is getting to me again. i guess i am really adjusting to being back.
on the front page of today's new york times there is an article about the increase by 1.7 million households of the number of americans living in poverty during 2002 and the decline in median household income during that same year. the article recounts the spin that the white house press secretary, scott mcclellan, put on the story:
i probably should not be commenting on economic issues, others are far more qualified to do that than me, but when i read the above quote it occurred to me that the white house had it backwards.
g.d.p., as i understand it, measures the overall growth of the economy. it is measured by looking at the economic output of businesses in this country. why do we care about how much economic growth there is? because there is an underlying assumption that more growth means that everyone in the economy will be better off. "a rising tide raises all ships" et cetera. because this assumption is required, g.d.p. is an indirect measure of how ordinary people are gaining or losing in this economy. a rise in g.d.p. could mean that the very rich are doing so well that it overwhelms the losses sustained by the majority.
the growth in the number of people who fit the definition of being "in poverty," on the other hand, directly measures the economy's effect on the average person. the poverty rate was created by determining what the cost of food is for a family and comparing that cost with the family's income. if a family (or individual) is "below the poverty line" it will have problems affording enough food to live. similarly, the decline in median household income directly measures how individual households are doing economically. the decline means that on average households in america are earning 1.1% less than they did the year before. unlike the g.d.p. each of these measures the average indivual in the economy and is directly examines any gains or losses in their economic well-being.
in essence, i read mcclellan's statement as an attempt to argue that the increased poverty and decreased average income figures are contradicted by, or at least made less relevant than, the incease in g.d.p. but if you think about it, it's really the opposite. poverty rates and median income directly measure the economic state of the average american. g.d.p. does not. in fact, it only relates to the economic state of the average american if you buy the "rising tide" assumption. rather than contradicting the poverty and income figures, the fact that the g.d.p. can increase when poverty grows and average income falls is evidence that the "rising tide" assumption is wrong. while mcclellan wants to use g.d.p. to discredit the poverty and income figures, instead those figures discredit the relevance of using g.d.p. to measure how well the average american is doing in today's economy.
as least those are my thoughts as a relative novice to economic issues. so if i am mistaken, where did i go wrong?
on the front page of today's new york times there is an article about the increase by 1.7 million households of the number of americans living in poverty during 2002 and the decline in median household income during that same year. the article recounts the spin that the white house press secretary, scott mcclellan, put on the story:
At his daily press briefing Mr. McClellan, rather than focusing on the census data, pointed instead to newly released figures from the Commerce Department that showed a larger-than-expected rise in the gross domestic product.
A 3.3 percent increase in the G.D.P. in the second quarter of this year, Mr. McClellan suggested, indicates that the economy is moving in a positive direction.
i probably should not be commenting on economic issues, others are far more qualified to do that than me, but when i read the above quote it occurred to me that the white house had it backwards.
g.d.p., as i understand it, measures the overall growth of the economy. it is measured by looking at the economic output of businesses in this country. why do we care about how much economic growth there is? because there is an underlying assumption that more growth means that everyone in the economy will be better off. "a rising tide raises all ships" et cetera. because this assumption is required, g.d.p. is an indirect measure of how ordinary people are gaining or losing in this economy. a rise in g.d.p. could mean that the very rich are doing so well that it overwhelms the losses sustained by the majority.
the growth in the number of people who fit the definition of being "in poverty," on the other hand, directly measures the economy's effect on the average person. the poverty rate was created by determining what the cost of food is for a family and comparing that cost with the family's income. if a family (or individual) is "below the poverty line" it will have problems affording enough food to live. similarly, the decline in median household income directly measures how individual households are doing economically. the decline means that on average households in america are earning 1.1% less than they did the year before. unlike the g.d.p. each of these measures the average indivual in the economy and is directly examines any gains or losses in their economic well-being.
in essence, i read mcclellan's statement as an attempt to argue that the increased poverty and decreased average income figures are contradicted by, or at least made less relevant than, the incease in g.d.p. but if you think about it, it's really the opposite. poverty rates and median income directly measure the economic state of the average american. g.d.p. does not. in fact, it only relates to the economic state of the average american if you buy the "rising tide" assumption. rather than contradicting the poverty and income figures, the fact that the g.d.p. can increase when poverty grows and average income falls is evidence that the "rising tide" assumption is wrong. while mcclellan wants to use g.d.p. to discredit the poverty and income figures, instead those figures discredit the relevance of using g.d.p. to measure how well the average american is doing in today's economy.
as least those are my thoughts as a relative novice to economic issues. so if i am mistaken, where did i go wrong?
Thursday, September 25, 2003
ciaran's life in philly
another friend has started a blog. he even retroactively entered posts going back two years. go check his site out.
once again i got stuff to say but i am too busy to write right now. give me a few more days. by this weekend i hope to get things back in order.
once again i got stuff to say but i am too busy to write right now. give me a few more days. by this weekend i hope to get things back in order.
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
back but busy
i'm back and i'm up to my ears in work. posting will be light for a few days. between wanting to spend time with my wife, my arabic class, my volunteering to work at the pro-choice pro-chocolate event tonight, and the piles of things both at work and at home that i have neglected over the past 2 and a half weeks while i was away, it may be a few days before i can start posting again.
needless to say, it is good to be back with my wife. i miss the freedom of travel (especially when i look at the pile of papers on my desk at work), and i miss the kindness of total strangers i repeatedly encountered throughout uzbekistan. but i am glad to be here. hopefully, i will have pictures soon
needless to say, it is good to be back with my wife. i miss the freedom of travel (especially when i look at the pile of papers on my desk at work), and i miss the kindness of total strangers i repeatedly encountered throughout uzbekistan. but i am glad to be here. hopefully, i will have pictures soon
Sunday, September 21, 2003
one day in tashkent
its my last full day here in uzbekistan. in some ways it feels like i've been here forever. in others, i can't believe this trip is almost over.
there's not all that much to see in this city, and what there is i saw two weeks ago when i first arrived. mostly i am trying to buy all the souvenirs i probably could have gotten for less money in khiva, bukhara, or samarkand but i didn't want to carry the extra weight.
this morning i had breakfast with an irish guy who works for the e.u. he's on his way to tajikistan to try to restart an aid project the europeans had funded there. the project was suspended a few years ago when the director and his wife were abducted. the wife was later killed. i told him about my trip to tajikistan and he just shook his head.
the last day of all of my trips is always a strange wistful time for me. it feels like i am already half gone. i wander the streets looking around and knowing that i probably will never see this place again. i've had a fantastic time here, but there are just too many other places i want to visit. i try to enjoy my last totally unplanned day before i return to the structure of my life in the u.s., but just knowing it's my last totally free day makes it feel less free. i know in a few weeks my memory of this place will seem unreal, like a dream. its made worse by the fact that i am alone and no one i know in the u.s. will share any memories of anything that has happened here. that's why i've been keeping a journal and taking so many photos. i am trying to prove that this is really real.
i don't particularly miss the u.s., but i miss people who are there terribly. if they were all with me now, i would not want to go yet. but they are not so i can't wait to get back to them, especially my wife. seeing her in person seems like a dream to me now.
i wonder if i will ever travel like this again. i wonder that at the end of every trip, but so far i have always had another chance.
there's not all that much to see in this city, and what there is i saw two weeks ago when i first arrived. mostly i am trying to buy all the souvenirs i probably could have gotten for less money in khiva, bukhara, or samarkand but i didn't want to carry the extra weight.
this morning i had breakfast with an irish guy who works for the e.u. he's on his way to tajikistan to try to restart an aid project the europeans had funded there. the project was suspended a few years ago when the director and his wife were abducted. the wife was later killed. i told him about my trip to tajikistan and he just shook his head.
the last day of all of my trips is always a strange wistful time for me. it feels like i am already half gone. i wander the streets looking around and knowing that i probably will never see this place again. i've had a fantastic time here, but there are just too many other places i want to visit. i try to enjoy my last totally unplanned day before i return to the structure of my life in the u.s., but just knowing it's my last totally free day makes it feel less free. i know in a few weeks my memory of this place will seem unreal, like a dream. its made worse by the fact that i am alone and no one i know in the u.s. will share any memories of anything that has happened here. that's why i've been keeping a journal and taking so many photos. i am trying to prove that this is really real.
i don't particularly miss the u.s., but i miss people who are there terribly. if they were all with me now, i would not want to go yet. but they are not so i can't wait to get back to them, especially my wife. seeing her in person seems like a dream to me now.
i wonder if i will ever travel like this again. i wonder that at the end of every trip, but so far i have always had another chance.
Saturday, September 20, 2003
in the fergana airport
this morning i flew from fergana to tashkent. the flight was at 6:45 a.m. so i had to wake up at 4:30. when i got to the airport and put my pack through security, they noticed the curved knife i bought in samarkand and told me (in russian, but i got the idea) that i would have to check my bag. i left my pack with the security screening guy and was led onto the tarmac with the other passengers.
outside, beyond the parked planes was a beautiful vista of snow-capped mountains. i realized that i was about to leave the fergana valley and had not gotten a photo of any snowy mountains. but when i raised my camera to my face a soldier yelled at me. behind me i heard a russian accented voice say in english "those mountains are a military secret." i turned around and saw a slick well dressed man. he reminded me of a russian gangster. the man was from georgia ("tblisi?"? i asked. "very good," he replied. "you don't sound like you are from atlanta." i said) but he lives in tashkent. he said he was in fergana on a business trip and was surprised to find out that i was traveling alone. he told me i should visit georgia. "is it safe there?" i asked. "maybe go with a friend," he replied. "to abkhazia?" "i would not recommend abkhazia."
we were led across the pavement to the stairs leading up to the plane. as i neared the stairs, a cart drove by carrying the checked luggage. my bag was not on the car. i pointed to the back of the cart and said "i am pissed off!!! where the fuck is my backpack!" in international sign language (i jumped up and down, made a lot of noise and drew a backpack in the air with my hands). the driver got the message, dropped the luggage and drove the cart back to the terminal. everyone else got on the plane but i waited at the base of the stairs with the woman collecting tickets. i held up one finger to say "please wait one minute" and stood with her hoping she would wait. eventually, the cart drove back towards us with my pack in the back. the driver handed my bag to me (apparently, no one told him i was not allowed to carry it aboard for security reasons) and i boarded the plane.
outside, beyond the parked planes was a beautiful vista of snow-capped mountains. i realized that i was about to leave the fergana valley and had not gotten a photo of any snowy mountains. but when i raised my camera to my face a soldier yelled at me. behind me i heard a russian accented voice say in english "those mountains are a military secret." i turned around and saw a slick well dressed man. he reminded me of a russian gangster. the man was from georgia ("tblisi?"? i asked. "very good," he replied. "you don't sound like you are from atlanta." i said) but he lives in tashkent. he said he was in fergana on a business trip and was surprised to find out that i was traveling alone. he told me i should visit georgia. "is it safe there?" i asked. "maybe go with a friend," he replied. "to abkhazia?" "i would not recommend abkhazia."
we were led across the pavement to the stairs leading up to the plane. as i neared the stairs, a cart drove by carrying the checked luggage. my bag was not on the car. i pointed to the back of the cart and said "i am pissed off!!! where the fuck is my backpack!" in international sign language (i jumped up and down, made a lot of noise and drew a backpack in the air with my hands). the driver got the message, dropped the luggage and drove the cart back to the terminal. everyone else got on the plane but i waited at the base of the stairs with the woman collecting tickets. i held up one finger to say "please wait one minute" and stood with her hoping she would wait. eventually, the cart drove back towards us with my pack in the back. the driver handed my bag to me (apparently, no one told him i was not allowed to carry it aboard for security reasons) and i boarded the plane.
Friday, September 19, 2003
political conversations in uzbekistan 2
the longer i am here, the easier it is to talk politics with the locals.
#4 on the road to samarkand
this is the only ride i have taken in this country between cities where my driver speaks english. we are alone in the car and he asks me what i think about the iraq war. i reply that i think it was a terrible mistake. the driver agrees, "yes, iraq had a bad president, but why must thousands of iraqis die because of that? our president is no good either. its not our fault."
#5 strolling through samarkand.
i am walking by a school in samarkand. my friend points to a school and tells me that is where president karimov went to school. although we are among crowds of people, i ask whether people like the president of this country. "they say he makes us poor." my friend replies without hesitation.
#6 margilan bazaar
as i walk through the bazaar one of the sellers invites me to sit and drink tea. if i took up everyone's invitation for tea, i would never be able to escape any uzbek bazaar, but i'm ready for a rest, so i sit with him. this guy loves talking politics. at first he misunderstands me when i say i speak english he thinks i mean that i am english and asks me about tony blair. when i tell him i am an american, he wants to know about "little bush." i tell him that bush is the worst president in the u.s. in my memory. he says that uzbekistan is worse. i can't really argue. "uzbekistan is totalitarian!" he says loudly in the crowded bazaar (his actions somewhat contradict his statement, no one arrests him or even takes note of his outburst).
contrary to my expectations people are not afraid to raise political issues in public here. but no one likes the uzbek president. i really wonder what will happen to this place in the long term.
#4 on the road to samarkand
this is the only ride i have taken in this country between cities where my driver speaks english. we are alone in the car and he asks me what i think about the iraq war. i reply that i think it was a terrible mistake. the driver agrees, "yes, iraq had a bad president, but why must thousands of iraqis die because of that? our president is no good either. its not our fault."
#5 strolling through samarkand.
i am walking by a school in samarkand. my friend points to a school and tells me that is where president karimov went to school. although we are among crowds of people, i ask whether people like the president of this country. "they say he makes us poor." my friend replies without hesitation.
#6 margilan bazaar
as i walk through the bazaar one of the sellers invites me to sit and drink tea. if i took up everyone's invitation for tea, i would never be able to escape any uzbek bazaar, but i'm ready for a rest, so i sit with him. this guy loves talking politics. at first he misunderstands me when i say i speak english he thinks i mean that i am english and asks me about tony blair. when i tell him i am an american, he wants to know about "little bush." i tell him that bush is the worst president in the u.s. in my memory. he says that uzbekistan is worse. i can't really argue. "uzbekistan is totalitarian!" he says loudly in the crowded bazaar (his actions somewhat contradict his statement, no one arrests him or even takes note of his outburst).
contrary to my expectations people are not afraid to raise political issues in public here. but no one likes the uzbek president. i really wonder what will happen to this place in the long term.
margilan
margilan is a small but old town in the fergana valley. the main thing to see there (other than a few mosques and the bazaar) is the yodgorlik silk factory. i toured the factory this morning, watching women sort silk cocoons, boil them to separate the silk strands, twist them into thread, dye the threads, and weave them together into scarves, dresses, bolts of cloth, etc. it was a fitting ending to my silk road tour. ever the labor lawyer, i asked my guide how old the youngest worker was, what their hours were like and how much they made. either he was well-coached or it is not a bad place to work, at least with an uzbek cost of living.
only a few days left in this country. tomorrow, i fly back to tashkent and i will be there until my ride home on monday morning.
only a few days left in this country. tomorrow, i fly back to tashkent and i will be there until my ride home on monday morning.
Thursday, September 18, 2003
the fergana valley
i'm in fergana now. i was out of touch for two days because i couldn't find an internet connection in qo'qon (kokand, the place i was this morning)
after samarkand, i was pretty much done with everywhere i intended to visit when i first planned this trip. i originally assumed that by the time i was done with samarkand, i would be out of time. but travel here is easy, at least compared to what i was used to in mali. so i left plenty of time for breakdowns, mishaps and disasters that never happened. i ended up in samarkand with about 5 days to spare, so i decided to go to the fergana valley
2 days ago, i woke up early and took a shared taxi to tashkent, then switched to another one to qo'qon. crossing into the valley was spectacular. the fergana valley is like a giant bowl, surrounded on all sides by various mountain ranges that are ultimately spurs of the himalayas. this is the breadbasket of uzbekistan. unlike the rest of the country, it does not have chronic water shortages. unfortunately because of soviet gerrymandering, the natural boundaries of the valley have been divided between kyrgystan, tajikistan and uzbekistan. because of the oddly shaped borders, the direct route from samarkand to qo'qon would have taken me through tajikistan, which i can't do legally. so instead i had to go north to tashkent, then turn south over the kamchik pass into the fergana valley. it took all day (to make it even more complicated. the most direct road between tashkent and samarkand goes through a bit of kazakhstan. so rather than take a 2 hour ride straight north, i had to take a 3 hour drive going north, then east, then north again)
anyway, the view as we crossed the kamchik pass was spectacular. the mountains surrounding the valley are snow-capped. i tried to take some photos from the car but the driver was a maniac and we were going really fast, especially just after the pass when we were speeding straight down the side of the mountain. the spedometer of the car topped out at 200 km/hr (120 mph), the needle was stuck all the way to the right the whole way down and the driver still had his foot on the accelerator.
in qo'qon, i stayed in a family's house. there were not really any hotels in the town other than two that my guidebook strongly advised i not stay in, so i went to the home of this guy who was mentioned in the book and he handed me off to this other family. they put me in one of the kid's rooms and i slept last night under the posters of some uzbek heart-throb.
no one in the house spoke english well, although two of the kids spoke a little. the house was behind a high white fence that looked exactly like everyone else's high fence and there was no number visible from the street. so after i dropped my things in their living room, i asked one of the kids how i could find the place if i went into town. he said "yes" and walked away.
i actually had a bunch of weird exchanges with that kid. before i went to bed, he appeared in my room (startling me) and said "outside dog." and then just stood there by the door looking at me. i didn't know what to say, so i just nodded and so he turned and walked out. he tended to appear, say random, semi-coherent things, and then leave.
this morning i wandered around qo'qon (the house i was staying at was about 3km from the center of town, it was a bit of a hike to get there). qo'qon is one of the newer silk road cities. it was a small village for much of the history of the road but then suddenly became the capital of a powerful khanate in the late 18th and early 19th century; a rival of the other khanates of khiva and bukhara. but it picked a bad time to get important, just as the russians were arriving. it held out longer than the other two, but was eventually defeated by the middle of the 19th century and turned into a russian provence. because it had such a brief period of glory, there wasn't that much to see other than the imposing and beautifully restored palace.
by noon i was done with qo'qon and so i got a ride to fergana. fergana is a russian planned city, designed to be the administrative capital of this region. i was originally going to go to margilan instead, a much more historic town, but i met a pair of travelers last night and they told me that there are not many places to stay in the town. fergana is only 20 km away from margilan, a taxi to margilan should cost less than $1 and has a lot more options, so i decided to go here.
i had heard good things about "olga's" a bed and breakfast with a woman who supposily speaks great english. i tried to call her from qo'qon but there was no answer. so i decided to just show up and see what happened. when i arrived, my driver dropped me at the cross streets where i heard olga's was. after he drove off, i realized that there was really nothing around me but nondescript buildings. i had the street address, but there were no numbers on the building.
one of the nearby buildings was an uzbekistan airways ticket office. i want to fly back to tashkent from here anyway and because they always have english speakers in their offices i decided to go in there. i walked in with my full pack on my back. first i bought my ticket to taskhent (it only costed $10 for a plane ticket!!!! unbelievable. the two car rides it took me to get from tashkent to fergana costed me $15), then asked to use their phone to call olga. a guy answered the phone who did not speak english. i tried to ask about a room but all he said was "olga tashkent" and hung up.
i wandered out of the ticket office. i was still determined to find olga's, even if she was in tashkent. the woman in the ticket office told me that the ticket office's address was number 20 al-fergani street. i was looking for number 11. i walked in the appropriate direction and went to the apartment building that was my best guess for number 11. there was no entrance in the front, so i walked into the back, where i found several different entrances. i was trying to guess which one would be the entrance to flat 10-11, when a woman yelled "hello!" from one of the balconies. i yelled up to her "do you speak english?" she said yes, and so i called her downstairs. she turned out to be a local english teacher and spent about an hour and a half both on the phone and wandering around trying to find olga for me. eventually, she arranged for olga's husband to pick me up. he does not speak english (and, i think is the one who hung up on me earlier) but took me back to his place anyway.
olga's place on the outside appears to be a drab soviet block apartment building. we rode up a decrepit elevator together. i thought: earlier in this trip, i have seen the ruins of the timurid and sogdian empires, this is the ruins of the soviet empire.
inside the apartment,however, it was really nice. he turned on the satellite tv and showed me how to get the b.b.c. he gave me a key to his place and showed me how to lock the door and then left me alone in his house, only 20 minutes after i first met him on the street.
that's pretty much where i am now.
after samarkand, i was pretty much done with everywhere i intended to visit when i first planned this trip. i originally assumed that by the time i was done with samarkand, i would be out of time. but travel here is easy, at least compared to what i was used to in mali. so i left plenty of time for breakdowns, mishaps and disasters that never happened. i ended up in samarkand with about 5 days to spare, so i decided to go to the fergana valley
2 days ago, i woke up early and took a shared taxi to tashkent, then switched to another one to qo'qon. crossing into the valley was spectacular. the fergana valley is like a giant bowl, surrounded on all sides by various mountain ranges that are ultimately spurs of the himalayas. this is the breadbasket of uzbekistan. unlike the rest of the country, it does not have chronic water shortages. unfortunately because of soviet gerrymandering, the natural boundaries of the valley have been divided between kyrgystan, tajikistan and uzbekistan. because of the oddly shaped borders, the direct route from samarkand to qo'qon would have taken me through tajikistan, which i can't do legally. so instead i had to go north to tashkent, then turn south over the kamchik pass into the fergana valley. it took all day (to make it even more complicated. the most direct road between tashkent and samarkand goes through a bit of kazakhstan. so rather than take a 2 hour ride straight north, i had to take a 3 hour drive going north, then east, then north again)
anyway, the view as we crossed the kamchik pass was spectacular. the mountains surrounding the valley are snow-capped. i tried to take some photos from the car but the driver was a maniac and we were going really fast, especially just after the pass when we were speeding straight down the side of the mountain. the spedometer of the car topped out at 200 km/hr (120 mph), the needle was stuck all the way to the right the whole way down and the driver still had his foot on the accelerator.
in qo'qon, i stayed in a family's house. there were not really any hotels in the town other than two that my guidebook strongly advised i not stay in, so i went to the home of this guy who was mentioned in the book and he handed me off to this other family. they put me in one of the kid's rooms and i slept last night under the posters of some uzbek heart-throb.
no one in the house spoke english well, although two of the kids spoke a little. the house was behind a high white fence that looked exactly like everyone else's high fence and there was no number visible from the street. so after i dropped my things in their living room, i asked one of the kids how i could find the place if i went into town. he said "yes" and walked away.
i actually had a bunch of weird exchanges with that kid. before i went to bed, he appeared in my room (startling me) and said "outside dog." and then just stood there by the door looking at me. i didn't know what to say, so i just nodded and so he turned and walked out. he tended to appear, say random, semi-coherent things, and then leave.
this morning i wandered around qo'qon (the house i was staying at was about 3km from the center of town, it was a bit of a hike to get there). qo'qon is one of the newer silk road cities. it was a small village for much of the history of the road but then suddenly became the capital of a powerful khanate in the late 18th and early 19th century; a rival of the other khanates of khiva and bukhara. but it picked a bad time to get important, just as the russians were arriving. it held out longer than the other two, but was eventually defeated by the middle of the 19th century and turned into a russian provence. because it had such a brief period of glory, there wasn't that much to see other than the imposing and beautifully restored palace.
by noon i was done with qo'qon and so i got a ride to fergana. fergana is a russian planned city, designed to be the administrative capital of this region. i was originally going to go to margilan instead, a much more historic town, but i met a pair of travelers last night and they told me that there are not many places to stay in the town. fergana is only 20 km away from margilan, a taxi to margilan should cost less than $1 and has a lot more options, so i decided to go here.
i had heard good things about "olga's" a bed and breakfast with a woman who supposily speaks great english. i tried to call her from qo'qon but there was no answer. so i decided to just show up and see what happened. when i arrived, my driver dropped me at the cross streets where i heard olga's was. after he drove off, i realized that there was really nothing around me but nondescript buildings. i had the street address, but there were no numbers on the building.
one of the nearby buildings was an uzbekistan airways ticket office. i want to fly back to tashkent from here anyway and because they always have english speakers in their offices i decided to go in there. i walked in with my full pack on my back. first i bought my ticket to taskhent (it only costed $10 for a plane ticket!!!! unbelievable. the two car rides it took me to get from tashkent to fergana costed me $15), then asked to use their phone to call olga. a guy answered the phone who did not speak english. i tried to ask about a room but all he said was "olga tashkent" and hung up.
i wandered out of the ticket office. i was still determined to find olga's, even if she was in tashkent. the woman in the ticket office told me that the ticket office's address was number 20 al-fergani street. i was looking for number 11. i walked in the appropriate direction and went to the apartment building that was my best guess for number 11. there was no entrance in the front, so i walked into the back, where i found several different entrances. i was trying to guess which one would be the entrance to flat 10-11, when a woman yelled "hello!" from one of the balconies. i yelled up to her "do you speak english?" she said yes, and so i called her downstairs. she turned out to be a local english teacher and spent about an hour and a half both on the phone and wandering around trying to find olga for me. eventually, she arranged for olga's husband to pick me up. he does not speak english (and, i think is the one who hung up on me earlier) but took me back to his place anyway.
olga's place on the outside appears to be a drab soviet block apartment building. we rode up a decrepit elevator together. i thought: earlier in this trip, i have seen the ruins of the timurid and sogdian empires, this is the ruins of the soviet empire.
inside the apartment,however, it was really nice. he turned on the satellite tv and showed me how to get the b.b.c. he gave me a key to his place and showed me how to lock the door and then left me alone in his house, only 20 minutes after i first met him on the street.
that's pretty much where i am now.
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
my morning as an illegal alien
today i went to pendzhikent for a day trip. pendzhikent is not far from here, but its in tajikistan, probably the most troubled of the central asia c.i.s. republics. after independence, while the others quickly developed various authoritative regimes, tajikistan broke into civil war. the war was settled by an uneasy truce. all of the former factions are currently in the coalition government, pairing mujihadin with secularists in one dysfunctional government.
i read in my guide book that it was possible to go to pendzhikent for the day from samarkand and i was too intrigued to pass it up. the book said that if you use a tourist agency, you don't need to get a formal visa, the agency can arrange a one day visa on the border. yesterday i signed up and today i went.
the mini-bus dropped me off at the edge of the frontier and i had to walk across no-man’s-land into tajikistan. my tajik tour guide met me in no-man’s-land and we stood there, surrounded by heavily armed border guards arguing over the price. he was not willing to budge much. after all, he knew he had me, i was already standing there on the border. what else could i do at that point. the lowest i could get him to go was $40 with no lunch. he asked for the money on the spot and my passport. i handed them to him and he disappeared into the tajik immigration office. he came out two minutes later, tossed my passport at me and led me to a car. as we drove away i flipped through my passport to get a glimpse of the new visa. there was none. the only new stamp was the exit stamp from uzbekistan. he had bribed the guard to let me in. i was an illegal alien.
rather than dodging the i.n.s. or working in some sweatshop, i spent my hours as an illegal touring sogdian ruins in the shadow of the turkistan and zarafshan mountain ranges. tajikistan is really a beautiful country. the ruins were recently excavated and pristine. you could still see the charred wood from when the arab invaders leveled and burned pendzhikent 12 centuries ago.
over lunch (yes, i bargained it away to get to $40 but he gave it to me anyway) i asked my guide whether there were any troubles in pendzhikent during the civil war and he said that area was pretty quiet. the big problem was the economic damage that was caused when the uzbek government closed the border.
i was ferried back across the border by 2:00 p.m. after one more night in samarkand i am going to make my way to the fergana valley tomorrow.
i read in my guide book that it was possible to go to pendzhikent for the day from samarkand and i was too intrigued to pass it up. the book said that if you use a tourist agency, you don't need to get a formal visa, the agency can arrange a one day visa on the border. yesterday i signed up and today i went.
the mini-bus dropped me off at the edge of the frontier and i had to walk across no-man’s-land into tajikistan. my tajik tour guide met me in no-man’s-land and we stood there, surrounded by heavily armed border guards arguing over the price. he was not willing to budge much. after all, he knew he had me, i was already standing there on the border. what else could i do at that point. the lowest i could get him to go was $40 with no lunch. he asked for the money on the spot and my passport. i handed them to him and he disappeared into the tajik immigration office. he came out two minutes later, tossed my passport at me and led me to a car. as we drove away i flipped through my passport to get a glimpse of the new visa. there was none. the only new stamp was the exit stamp from uzbekistan. he had bribed the guard to let me in. i was an illegal alien.
rather than dodging the i.n.s. or working in some sweatshop, i spent my hours as an illegal touring sogdian ruins in the shadow of the turkistan and zarafshan mountain ranges. tajikistan is really a beautiful country. the ruins were recently excavated and pristine. you could still see the charred wood from when the arab invaders leveled and burned pendzhikent 12 centuries ago.
over lunch (yes, i bargained it away to get to $40 but he gave it to me anyway) i asked my guide whether there were any troubles in pendzhikent during the civil war and he said that area was pretty quiet. the big problem was the economic damage that was caused when the uzbek government closed the border.
i was ferried back across the border by 2:00 p.m. after one more night in samarkand i am going to make my way to the fergana valley tomorrow.
militsiya
last night i was supposed to meet a friend at a park. i either got the name of the park wrong or the cab driver did not understand my accent. either way, i ended up standing in one park last night, waiting to meet someone who was waiting for me in a different park across the city.
i meet an uzbek who speaks french and we started to chat on the side of the road. it becomes quite dark and no one else is around. it started to dawn on me that i have the wrong park, so i ask my franco-uzbek friend about other parks around samarkand. just then, two policemen appear. i noticed right away that they were walking towards me, and not the french-speaking guy.
i should add at this point that prior to last night, i have never had any problems with any police here. i have heard stories from other people, but i guess i just lucked out. if anything they seemed to be leaving me alone; a few times i saw them hassle uzbeks around me without bothering me.
until last night. when the cops reached me, one said “passport” and i played dumb. i just started at him saying “nyet russki” with the blankest expression i could muster. “passport,” he repeated. i said “i am sorry, i don’t understand” in slow english. the guy next to me, trying to be helpful, said “he wants to look at your passport” in french. i turned to him and asked him in french “why does he want to see my passport?” “they are the police,” he replied. meanwhile the cops were repeating their demands to see my passport. i continued to ignore them.
i asked the french-speaker to ask the officers why they wanted to see my passport. instead he said “maybe they want a little money?” “well, they’re not getting any,” i said. i added, “tell them that they will not get my passport or any money from me.” the french speaker asked why i was being such a hard ass. “the american embassy told me to never ever give your passport to the police in uzbekistan,” i lied. jamais jamais jamais! i added for emphasis.
my translator said something to them, i’m not sure what it was, but the police switched tactics. “hotel?” they asked. “furkat,” i said. “afrosiab?” they said. “nyet, furkat.” they said something else and in french my friend says, they need your passport and registration to verify that you are really in a hotel.
this was a potential problem.. in uzbekistan, foreigners are required to register with the ovir office whenever they arrive in a city. hotels take care of it as a matter of course, but furkat never actually got around to it in the 2 days since i checked in. i was not, technically speaking, legal.
“no passport!” i said to the police. they said something else. the french speaker said “they want your keys.” “my keys?” i ask. “to your hotel,” he clarified. i don’t know why, but i pulled them out of my pocket and handed them to the police. they took them, dangled them out in front of me and said “passport.” i felt like i was in 4th grade again.
i wouldn’t budge. i just said to the french speaker, “tell them they are not getting my passport.”
the police changed tactics again. they started motioning that i come with them. i tried to play dumb again but the french speaking guy told me what i already know “they are telling you that you must come to the station with them.” “i am staying here. i have to wait for my friend,” i said. the police made a little hand signal crossing their fingers to represent bars and motioned like they would lock me up. i looked away from them, looking down the road for my friend’s car. at one point they came towards me like they were going to grab me, but i just quietly moved out of the way and stared off in a different direction. i think the cops were at a loss of what to do with me.
one of them quietly handed me my keys. “go hotel” he said, motioning to the road. “but i must meet my friend” i replied in english. the french speaker said something to them. the police pointed to taxi “go hotel!” i asked the french speaker to tell them i was waiting there. he did. they said something back to him. he translated “they said you can wait ten more minutes and then you must go to your hotel.” the police wandered off.
20 minutes later, i was still there when the police came back and we started again. it was a little shorter this time. they wanted my passport, they wanted to take me to the station, etc. at one point i told the french speaker “tell them to fuck off.” "i won’t translate that," he said. eventually they went away. they never got my passport or a bribe from me.
i meet an uzbek who speaks french and we started to chat on the side of the road. it becomes quite dark and no one else is around. it started to dawn on me that i have the wrong park, so i ask my franco-uzbek friend about other parks around samarkand. just then, two policemen appear. i noticed right away that they were walking towards me, and not the french-speaking guy.
i should add at this point that prior to last night, i have never had any problems with any police here. i have heard stories from other people, but i guess i just lucked out. if anything they seemed to be leaving me alone; a few times i saw them hassle uzbeks around me without bothering me.
until last night. when the cops reached me, one said “passport” and i played dumb. i just started at him saying “nyet russki” with the blankest expression i could muster. “passport,” he repeated. i said “i am sorry, i don’t understand” in slow english. the guy next to me, trying to be helpful, said “he wants to look at your passport” in french. i turned to him and asked him in french “why does he want to see my passport?” “they are the police,” he replied. meanwhile the cops were repeating their demands to see my passport. i continued to ignore them.
i asked the french-speaker to ask the officers why they wanted to see my passport. instead he said “maybe they want a little money?” “well, they’re not getting any,” i said. i added, “tell them that they will not get my passport or any money from me.” the french speaker asked why i was being such a hard ass. “the american embassy told me to never ever give your passport to the police in uzbekistan,” i lied. jamais jamais jamais! i added for emphasis.
my translator said something to them, i’m not sure what it was, but the police switched tactics. “hotel?” they asked. “furkat,” i said. “afrosiab?” they said. “nyet, furkat.” they said something else and in french my friend says, they need your passport and registration to verify that you are really in a hotel.
this was a potential problem.. in uzbekistan, foreigners are required to register with the ovir office whenever they arrive in a city. hotels take care of it as a matter of course, but furkat never actually got around to it in the 2 days since i checked in. i was not, technically speaking, legal.
“no passport!” i said to the police. they said something else. the french speaker said “they want your keys.” “my keys?” i ask. “to your hotel,” he clarified. i don’t know why, but i pulled them out of my pocket and handed them to the police. they took them, dangled them out in front of me and said “passport.” i felt like i was in 4th grade again.
i wouldn’t budge. i just said to the french speaker, “tell them they are not getting my passport.”
the police changed tactics again. they started motioning that i come with them. i tried to play dumb again but the french speaking guy told me what i already know “they are telling you that you must come to the station with them.” “i am staying here. i have to wait for my friend,” i said. the police made a little hand signal crossing their fingers to represent bars and motioned like they would lock me up. i looked away from them, looking down the road for my friend’s car. at one point they came towards me like they were going to grab me, but i just quietly moved out of the way and stared off in a different direction. i think the cops were at a loss of what to do with me.
one of them quietly handed me my keys. “go hotel” he said, motioning to the road. “but i must meet my friend” i replied in english. the french speaker said something to them. the police pointed to taxi “go hotel!” i asked the french speaker to tell them i was waiting there. he did. they said something back to him. he translated “they said you can wait ten more minutes and then you must go to your hotel.” the police wandered off.
20 minutes later, i was still there when the police came back and we started again. it was a little shorter this time. they wanted my passport, they wanted to take me to the station, etc. at one point i told the french speaker “tell them to fuck off.” "i won’t translate that," he said. eventually they went away. they never got my passport or a bribe from me.
climbing in samarkand and shakhrisabz
i am in samarkand, just back from a day trip to shakhrisabz. samarakand is an ancient city. alexander the great was here and met his wife roxana in this town before turning his armies south towards india. but samarkand achieved true greatness under timur the great (or terrible, depending on your point of view). he was known as tamerlane in the west and christopher marlow wrote a play about him. i spent yesterday wandering the city with zemfira, a person i met in this very internet café the day before yesterday. the highlight of the day was in the registan, the most famous collection of mosques and madrassas in this country, zemfira told me it was possible to climb one of the minarets and managed to find the stairway. the stairs were dark, dusty and crumbled under our feet as we climbed. at times we were in total darkness as the stairs twisted away from any light source. at the very top was a hole in the flat metal roof of the minaret. the hole was very thin, i had to take off my backpack to fit through. there was no observation deck at the top, no railing, no floor really. just a circular metal roof in the shape of a cone that was maybe 2 meters in diameter, sloping downward before the terrifying drop off to the plaza far below. zemfira climbed right out of the hole and slid over on the metal roof to give me room to come up. i followed her, but kept at least one foot on the solid stairs down in the hole on the roof. we stayed up there enjoying the view, until a policeman came up and yelled at us to come down. i guess we were spotted.
today, i went to shakhrisabz, the home town of timur and a little more off the tourist track. i took local transport there, which is remarkably easy considering that i don’t know any languages that are remotely useful here. in the north of the city is a the ruins of the ak serai, the “white palace.” the palace is two towers connected by a huge arch between them. at least it used to be, the arch later collapsed. of course, i had to climb one of the towers, which i did. this time, there were others climbing too, uzbek tourists. as i stood at the top and surveyed shakhrisabz, it suddently occurred to me that i was standing at the top of a building that has already partially collapsed and that is located in an earthquake zone. once that thought crept into my head, i came down. i think that’s all the climbing for now.
today, i went to shakhrisabz, the home town of timur and a little more off the tourist track. i took local transport there, which is remarkably easy considering that i don’t know any languages that are remotely useful here. in the north of the city is a the ruins of the ak serai, the “white palace.” the palace is two towers connected by a huge arch between them. at least it used to be, the arch later collapsed. of course, i had to climb one of the towers, which i did. this time, there were others climbing too, uzbek tourists. as i stood at the top and surveyed shakhrisabz, it suddently occurred to me that i was standing at the top of a building that has already partially collapsed and that is located in an earthquake zone. once that thought crept into my head, i came down. i think that’s all the climbing for now.
Saturday, September 13, 2003
has nothing new happened
i felt really out of touch until i just checked a bunch of news sites. everything i read could have been written a week and a half ago before i left. so was it a really slow week? or is it always like this, but i don't notice because i'm so obsessed with all of the details?
okay, its time to wander samarkand now
okay, its time to wander samarkand now
bukhara to samarkand
bukhara has a feel of faded glory. the simple streets of a developing country led to ornate and crumbling madrassas, mosques and minarets. while khiva is a museum city, bukhara feels alive. there are also a lot more tourists here although the city is less visually stunning than khiva. i spent all yesterday wandering its dusty streets from impressive monument to impressive monument and getting a feel for its tangled layout as children in school uniforms pushed past me.
this morning i arrived in samarkand, legendary city of beauty; capital of timur the great. i just got here, but already it is evident that this is much more of a soviet city than bukhara, with various old monuments scattered around the town between large blocky concrete buildings and wide modern streets. travel accounts from centuries ago talked about how green this city is, and that much is still true. all of the streets are aligned with trees here. people are less talkative here, but maybe i am just less in the center of things. this city is more spread out, so i am not sure if there really is a center in the same way as lyab-i-hauz was in bukhara.
i have been sitting in the internet cafe for a while. this is the first one i have found for a while with a decent connection. i've finally had a chance to answer all the email i blew off while in nukus, khiva and samarkand. the people here just gave me free coffee. uzbeks are very kind to foreigners. or maybe they're just happy that i've been here for so long. maybe i'll even try to find out what has happened in the world for the last week...
this morning i arrived in samarkand, legendary city of beauty; capital of timur the great. i just got here, but already it is evident that this is much more of a soviet city than bukhara, with various old monuments scattered around the town between large blocky concrete buildings and wide modern streets. travel accounts from centuries ago talked about how green this city is, and that much is still true. all of the streets are aligned with trees here. people are less talkative here, but maybe i am just less in the center of things. this city is more spread out, so i am not sure if there really is a center in the same way as lyab-i-hauz was in bukhara.
i have been sitting in the internet cafe for a while. this is the first one i have found for a while with a decent connection. i've finally had a chance to answer all the email i blew off while in nukus, khiva and samarkand. the people here just gave me free coffee. uzbeks are very kind to foreigners. or maybe they're just happy that i've been here for so long. maybe i'll even try to find out what has happened in the world for the last week...
hats 2
in bukhara, i try to buy another hat. i point to a traditional uzbek hat and ask how much. we bargain back and forth. i get her to go from 15,000 sum to 1,900 and felt pretty good about it (its about 980 sum to the dollar). after i pay, i slip the hat on my head and walk further down the market to buy a little water holder. after i buy it, the seller says “how much you pay for that hat?” i tell her 1,900 and she bursts out laughing and pointing at me. “that hat, no more than 1,500!!! ha ha ha!” “how much for this?” i ask, pointing to the water holder that she sold me less than a minute before. i paid 2000. ‘that 600 sum! hahahahaha!” i thought to myself, i think I am beginning to like this person.
hats 1
i have a thing for hats; i buy them wherever i go. years ago a friend of mine gave my wife and me a pair of turkmen hats as a wedding gift. the hats made me look like i had a massive afro when i wore it and smelled like a dead goat. i didn’t wear it very often, but the hats were displayed proudly in our apartment.
a few years ago, my wife noticed that one of the hats appeared to be moving. it was infested with moths and fell apart in my hands when i picked it up. the moths, realizing the hat was gone, migrated to my closet and ruined a bunch of clothes before we managed to get rid of them.
in khiva, i saw the same hat for sale on the side of the street. i managed to explain to the seller the problem with my last hat, but he said that his hats did not smell; the hides had been cleaned and treated. (at least that’s what i’m pretty sure he said, our conversation was a mixture of broken english and pantomime). i was a little suspicious, so i buried my face in the furry hat and took a big whiff. that would have knocked me out with my old hat, but this one smelled clean. i bought the turkmen hat, carefully folded it up, and put it in my pack. the next day, i was rearranging my bag to prepare for the trip to bukhara and a familiar stink emerged from my pack. maybe i can find some gullible tourist so i can unload this thing
a few years ago, my wife noticed that one of the hats appeared to be moving. it was infested with moths and fell apart in my hands when i picked it up. the moths, realizing the hat was gone, migrated to my closet and ruined a bunch of clothes before we managed to get rid of them.
in khiva, i saw the same hat for sale on the side of the street. i managed to explain to the seller the problem with my last hat, but he said that his hats did not smell; the hides had been cleaned and treated. (at least that’s what i’m pretty sure he said, our conversation was a mixture of broken english and pantomime). i was a little suspicious, so i buried my face in the furry hat and took a big whiff. that would have knocked me out with my old hat, but this one smelled clean. i bought the turkmen hat, carefully folded it up, and put it in my pack. the next day, i was rearranging my bag to prepare for the trip to bukhara and a familiar stink emerged from my pack. maybe i can find some gullible tourist so i can unload this thing
Friday, September 12, 2003
Political conversations in Uzbekistan
These are the closest I have come to talking politics with the locals here so far:
#1: Tea in Tashkent
It’s my first full day in this country. I am wandering the capital city between various sites in my guide book, occasionally taking detours to neighborhoods to look around. I have picked up rustam, a 20 year old uzbek who is studying English and wants to practice with me. As we walk through this neighborhood, a local invites us in for tea. Rustam translates as we chat over tea with our host.
The host asks “what do you think of our president in Uzbekistan?” I play dumb and say I don’t know much about him. Then I ask our host, “what do you think of your president?” the host’s eyes dart quickly to the side in a sort of nervous way and he says, “Uzbeks like peace.” At least two different (and opposite) ways to interpret his remark pop into my head, but I do not ask what he means.
#2: In the Taxi from Nukus to Urgench
I’m in a shared taxi with 4 uzbeks (the driver and 3 other passengers). Within the first 2 minutes we establish that I have no languages in common with any of them, but that does not stop them from trying. They ask me things in Russian over and over again, apparently to make sure that I have not suddenly acquired the language in the 2 seconds since the prior time he asked. As we cross the amu darya river over a pontoon bridge, one passenger turns to me and says “Bush?” giving a thumbs up sign. I grab his fist and turn it upside down. “bush,” I say. The Uzbeks are surprised. “Reagan?” one says with another thumbs up. “Reagan,” I reply moving his thumb downward. “Clinton?” the first one says. I turn his thumb so it is horizontal, pointing sideways. “Clinton.”
#3: on my walk through bukhara last night.
I meet madina, a bukhari tajik. She invites me to her house for tea. On our way there, she asks me how I like living in the u.s., so I ask her how she likes living in Uzbekistan. “It was better during the soviet union,” she replies. “Then, we could buy food and our money was worth something. I would rather be in the u.s.s.r. the government at least tried to care for us then. Things are getting worse here.”
I think I will leave for samarkand tomorrow. Bukhara is great, but I am already starting to have that feeling that I am ready to move on. I am considering a day trip to Tajikistan after samarkand. My guide book says it is possible without a visa. At this pace, I might also be able to make it to the fergana valley. We will see how much time I have left when I make it back to Tashkent.
#1: Tea in Tashkent
It’s my first full day in this country. I am wandering the capital city between various sites in my guide book, occasionally taking detours to neighborhoods to look around. I have picked up rustam, a 20 year old uzbek who is studying English and wants to practice with me. As we walk through this neighborhood, a local invites us in for tea. Rustam translates as we chat over tea with our host.
The host asks “what do you think of our president in Uzbekistan?” I play dumb and say I don’t know much about him. Then I ask our host, “what do you think of your president?” the host’s eyes dart quickly to the side in a sort of nervous way and he says, “Uzbeks like peace.” At least two different (and opposite) ways to interpret his remark pop into my head, but I do not ask what he means.
#2: In the Taxi from Nukus to Urgench
I’m in a shared taxi with 4 uzbeks (the driver and 3 other passengers). Within the first 2 minutes we establish that I have no languages in common with any of them, but that does not stop them from trying. They ask me things in Russian over and over again, apparently to make sure that I have not suddenly acquired the language in the 2 seconds since the prior time he asked. As we cross the amu darya river over a pontoon bridge, one passenger turns to me and says “Bush?” giving a thumbs up sign. I grab his fist and turn it upside down. “bush,” I say. The Uzbeks are surprised. “Reagan?” one says with another thumbs up. “Reagan,” I reply moving his thumb downward. “Clinton?” the first one says. I turn his thumb so it is horizontal, pointing sideways. “Clinton.”
#3: on my walk through bukhara last night.
I meet madina, a bukhari tajik. She invites me to her house for tea. On our way there, she asks me how I like living in the u.s., so I ask her how she likes living in Uzbekistan. “It was better during the soviet union,” she replies. “Then, we could buy food and our money was worth something. I would rather be in the u.s.s.r. the government at least tried to care for us then. Things are getting worse here.”
I think I will leave for samarkand tomorrow. Bukhara is great, but I am already starting to have that feeling that I am ready to move on. I am considering a day trip to Tajikistan after samarkand. My guide book says it is possible without a visa. At this pace, I might also be able to make it to the fergana valley. We will see how much time I have left when I make it back to Tashkent.
Thursday, September 11, 2003
khiva to bukhara
I’m in bukhara now. Writing this on a word processor program because the web service is so slow. This damn thing is adding caps for me. Damn you Microsoft!!! Blogger is still trying to load.
Yesterday I was in khiva, the most visually amazing city I have ever seen. the city was declared a museum city by the soviet union so nothing new has been built (or demolished) in 90 years or so. wandering the streets was like going back in time. There were few other tourists, so mostly I had the place to myself. Last night was the full moon. There was a power outage and I walked alone along the streets illuminated only by the moon under the towering shadow of the madrassahs and minarets.
Bukhara has just as many monuments, but spread over a larger area and mixed in with soviet-stype buildings. At least that’s my impression in the first 20 minutes or so. I just got here. more later, if this page can ever load!!!!
My “edit your blog" screen has finally loaded. Time for me to paste this in. the connection is so slow here, I haven’t been checking any news sites. I have no idea what is happening in the world on this 2nd anniversary of 9/11.
Yesterday I was in khiva, the most visually amazing city I have ever seen. the city was declared a museum city by the soviet union so nothing new has been built (or demolished) in 90 years or so. wandering the streets was like going back in time. There were few other tourists, so mostly I had the place to myself. Last night was the full moon. There was a power outage and I walked alone along the streets illuminated only by the moon under the towering shadow of the madrassahs and minarets.
Bukhara has just as many monuments, but spread over a larger area and mixed in with soviet-stype buildings. At least that’s my impression in the first 20 minutes or so. I just got here. more later, if this page can ever load!!!!
My “edit your blog" screen has finally loaded. Time for me to paste this in. the connection is so slow here, I haven’t been checking any news sites. I have no idea what is happening in the world on this 2nd anniversary of 9/11.
Tuesday, September 09, 2003
the aral sea
this morning, i was in nukus, the capitol of karakalpakistan, an autonomous republic on the western end of uzbekistan reserved for the, you guessed it, the karakalpaks. It’s also among the poorest areas in this country. during the 19th centuries, the russians decided to raise cotton in what is now uzbekistan, taking advantage of a shortage in world markets because of the american civil war. cotton does not really belong here, so much of this place is desert, so the russians built a series of irrigation canals. during the soviet period there was even greater pressure to increase agricultural production and so the irrigation system was expanded. as a result, the aral sea is shrinking. this morning I was in nukus and hitched a ride to moynaq, formerly a port on the aral sea, now far from the coast. i walked along the seabed around the rusting beached hulks of fishing boats. it was greener than i imagined, little scrubby trees have slowly taken root along the sea bed. as the sea evaporated the salination level increased in the remaining water. now none of the indigenous creatures can live in its waters. they say it is one of the worst ecological disasters in the world.
Sunday, September 07, 2003
the ride to tashkent
i flew via frankfurt. on the frankfurt to tashkent flight were two guys who looked like muscular frat boys. they each had a duffle bag which said "bagram, afghanistan" written on the side. a uzbekistan airways representative told them they had to check the bags, but they refused, saying the bags contained things issued by the u.s. military. the representative insisted, saying that the bags were much too big under their regulations. the military guys wouldn't budge. this argument happened right in front of me. i'm not sure if they knew i understood english. the military guys told the rep. to talk to his superior. he disappeared. later, when i was on the plane, i saw the soldiers boarding with their bagram bags.
the guy next to me was also an american. he worked for brown and root, a civilian contractor for the u.s. military and was on route to bagram, afghanistan too. he didn't have a visa for uzbekistan (which i was told everyone has to get, even if they are just transiting). he showed me this photo i.d. around his neck that said "u.s. army" in big bold letters. he told me that the badge practically gives him diplomatic immunity. they can't search his bags, or hassle him at the airport. that's how the soldiers got their bags on board too.
i tried to imagine an american air carrier allowing unsearched bags which admittedly contain military equipment aboard a civilian aircraft.
meanwhile, tashkent is great. i spent the day walking around, blunding my way through with my 5 words of uzbek and hand signals. i got to use my arabic to talk my way into a mosque. when they heard me speak, they asked if i was muslim, but i evaded the question. its pretty hot here.
as much as i like this city, i might leave tomorrow. i have to come back here anyway to catch my flight home and i am anxious to get moving again. after all, i have been in this city a whoppin 20 hours. i just like to keep moving when i travel.
the guy next to me was also an american. he worked for brown and root, a civilian contractor for the u.s. military and was on route to bagram, afghanistan too. he didn't have a visa for uzbekistan (which i was told everyone has to get, even if they are just transiting). he showed me this photo i.d. around his neck that said "u.s. army" in big bold letters. he told me that the badge practically gives him diplomatic immunity. they can't search his bags, or hassle him at the airport. that's how the soldiers got their bags on board too.
i tried to imagine an american air carrier allowing unsearched bags which admittedly contain military equipment aboard a civilian aircraft.
meanwhile, tashkent is great. i spent the day walking around, blunding my way through with my 5 words of uzbek and hand signals. i got to use my arabic to talk my way into a mosque. when they heard me speak, they asked if i was muslim, but i evaded the question. its pretty hot here.
as much as i like this city, i might leave tomorrow. i have to come back here anyway to catch my flight home and i am anxious to get moving again. after all, i have been in this city a whoppin 20 hours. i just like to keep moving when i travel.
Thursday, September 04, 2003
frazzled
this is frustrating. there are all kinds of things i would love to rant about now, but i really have no time. earlier in the week i realized it would be difficult to complete all the work i had to do at my office before i leave. then yesterday, i was asked to put together an emergency motion for an injunction. i ended up working on nothing else all day yesterday and i'm still not done. meanwhile, none of the things on my pre-existing "to do" list are done. i came in early this morning, but i can't stay late after work today (its the first day of my new arabic class. i barely convinced the prof. to let me enroll when she found out that i am missing 2 weeks of the class. and she only gave in when i solomnly swore that i will not miss any other class ever. actually, i'm not sure if i can keep the promise, but i must make the first class or she won't let me in). hopefully i can finish this damn motion before everyone else gets here and i will have a full day to work.
this may be my last chance to blog before i leave tomorrow. i might blog from uzbekistan. as it is, i am planning to keep a journal, keep in touch with worried family members via email, and write a whole lotta postcards. given all that i also want to have time to actually wander around and see the country, blogging may fall by the wayside. but if i am so moved and i got time to kill, i might slip in a post here and there. who knows, maybe i'll get really into it. stay tuned.
(by the way, i want to thank sean-paul kelley for spending his time on the phone with me last night answering my questions about traveling in uzbekistan. everyone go read his blog.)
this may be my last chance to blog before i leave tomorrow. i might blog from uzbekistan. as it is, i am planning to keep a journal, keep in touch with worried family members via email, and write a whole lotta postcards. given all that i also want to have time to actually wander around and see the country, blogging may fall by the wayside. but if i am so moved and i got time to kill, i might slip in a post here and there. who knows, maybe i'll get really into it. stay tuned.
(by the way, i want to thank sean-paul kelley for spending his time on the phone with me last night answering my questions about traveling in uzbekistan. everyone go read his blog.)
Tuesday, September 02, 2003
stay or go
recently, one question that’s been batting around the left-wing blogisphere is the “should we stay or should we go” question. the question, of course, refers to iraq. most, if not all, of the blogs i’ve been reading on this issue were against the war before it started, but they seem evenly divided on the “what do we do now that we are there” question. some want to pull out immediately, and others–the “you break it, you bought it” crowd–argue that once we destroy the government, we cannot leave until we put a viable government in its place. atrios recently voted that we go. howard dean, the anti-war democratic presidential candidate thinks we should stay.
i actually, think that this is a false dichotomy. its not really a question of whether the u.s. leaves or stays, but rather how long the u.s. stays before it leaves. indeed, even the “stayers” agree that we will leave at some point. no one is advocating making iraq a permanent u.s. territory like puerto rico. they just don’t think iraq is ready for the u.s. to leave right now.
and the “leavers” acknowledge that by leaving, they do not mean they want to ship everyone home this afternoon, but rather they advocate beginning an organized pullout leaving some kind of provisional iraqi government or u.n. administered transition authority in its place. thus, their leaving is premised on the fact that something will be ready to take over in our absence. no one claims that anything like that exists today.
so the stay vs. leave question is really a question of how long do we stay. when people talk about “staying” they mean a long-term project of nation building. when they talk about “leaving” they mean a quick turnover to a provisional authority, but even that could take a few months. viewed in that light, everyone is really for “leaving.” i mean even the bush administration (who everyone assumes is the epitome of “stayers”) have said that they will leave “as long as necessary, but not a day longer”. if you take them at their word, i don’t think many people disagree with that. but like many of this administration's pronouncements, the statement is fairly empty, punting the critic question of how long i necessary.
in my mind the question is not “staying” or “going,” it’s having some sort of exit strategy. the administration tries to give the impression that it has one. but has never publicized any specifics. if they have a plan, i want to know what it is: when exactly the iraqi constitution will be complete, when will the first elections be held? when will the u.s. be totally divested from the power structure in that country, when will it have its own armed forces, etc. there should be a date on which we expect to accomplish each step. obviously the timetable will not be anything more than tentative; dates will change as things inevitably go wrong. but we at least need some kind of plan.
given this administration’s love of secrecy and their tendency to frame everything in terms of simpleminded absolutes, i doubt if they will ever give anything so substantive to the american public. but what if one of the presidential candidates touts his own timetable. maybe that would embarrass the administration into giving something that resembles a plan. or maybe not. its worth a try.
so on the “should we stay or should we go” question, i’m just for having a plan to go.
i actually, think that this is a false dichotomy. its not really a question of whether the u.s. leaves or stays, but rather how long the u.s. stays before it leaves. indeed, even the “stayers” agree that we will leave at some point. no one is advocating making iraq a permanent u.s. territory like puerto rico. they just don’t think iraq is ready for the u.s. to leave right now.
and the “leavers” acknowledge that by leaving, they do not mean they want to ship everyone home this afternoon, but rather they advocate beginning an organized pullout leaving some kind of provisional iraqi government or u.n. administered transition authority in its place. thus, their leaving is premised on the fact that something will be ready to take over in our absence. no one claims that anything like that exists today.
so the stay vs. leave question is really a question of how long do we stay. when people talk about “staying” they mean a long-term project of nation building. when they talk about “leaving” they mean a quick turnover to a provisional authority, but even that could take a few months. viewed in that light, everyone is really for “leaving.” i mean even the bush administration (who everyone assumes is the epitome of “stayers”) have said that they will leave “as long as necessary, but not a day longer”. if you take them at their word, i don’t think many people disagree with that. but like many of this administration's pronouncements, the statement is fairly empty, punting the critic question of how long i necessary.
in my mind the question is not “staying” or “going,” it’s having some sort of exit strategy. the administration tries to give the impression that it has one. but has never publicized any specifics. if they have a plan, i want to know what it is: when exactly the iraqi constitution will be complete, when will the first elections be held? when will the u.s. be totally divested from the power structure in that country, when will it have its own armed forces, etc. there should be a date on which we expect to accomplish each step. obviously the timetable will not be anything more than tentative; dates will change as things inevitably go wrong. but we at least need some kind of plan.
given this administration’s love of secrecy and their tendency to frame everything in terms of simpleminded absolutes, i doubt if they will ever give anything so substantive to the american public. but what if one of the presidential candidates touts his own timetable. maybe that would embarrass the administration into giving something that resembles a plan. or maybe not. its worth a try.
so on the “should we stay or should we go” question, i’m just for having a plan to go.
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