Getting to know the Uzbek roads

Panoramic view of Zarafshan Mountains on the way to Shahrisabz.
Credit: Mark

With over 2.3 million people living in the capital, I shouldn't ever be surprised about hitting traffic, but I am. Only I don't just "hit" traffic, because the jam packed streets are always that way. Instead, I am forced to jump in like a round of Double Dutch when I see my entrance.  We navigate often incorrect maps of cooked and uncooked spaghetti noodles and get honked at for obeying traffic lights - even though there are cameras everywhere. Expensive tickets are regularly issued for speeding and running red lights, but that seems to stop no one. Often a turn lane becomes 5 or 6 lanes. If there's space, they will fill it. But I don't mind so much because Uzbek drivers, though they drive aggressively, are not threatening like drivers in America. I'm not afraid someone is tailgating me because they are angry and seeing red. They are tailgating because that is how it's done.  

All the same, I was relieved to be on the open road when we drove to Samarkand, the country's second biggest city. It's located about 4.5 hours south on the M39, a highway which eventually becomes a left hand-turn near the border of Afghanistan. We drove past huge expanses of hazy, winterized farm land where remnants of harvested cotton blew in the wind and fruit trees stood naked. The road side vendors had seasonal produce like gourds, apples, pomegranates, and potatoes, but also some suspiciously non-seasonal, like watermelon and grapes. Others sold jugs of red gel fuel, salted carp, honey, and huge jars of kurt - dried and salted cheese gum-ball sized spheres (size varies).  They keep well in the heat and pack well. One could argue they are an ideal road-trip food - indeed kurt was a staple for anyone traveling along the Silk Road back in the day.

Since this was our first time making a trip with our 20 year old car, we weren't exactly sure how far a tank of gas would get us. Along the way we passed a gas station that had 30-40 cars waiting their turn. Then we passed many more stations packed to the point that cars were lining up along the highway (off-ramps are not exactly a thing, but more of a split from the road). Was there a gas shortage? Should we be worried? We didn't really have a backup plan nor any idea where the next station would show up along the way. 

It turns out that many cars use methane gas around here. Big red tanks are installed in the trunks of the cars and they get filled like one fills a propane tank. According to the manager of the vacant b&b we stayed at, explained that the reason for the long lines was because big cities like Tashkent and Samarkand utilize huge quantities of methane for heating and fueling, thus reducing the pressure power of the pipelines outside of the city. Less pressure means it takes a lot longer to fill tanks.

We made it to Samarkand without issue, but realized quickly we'd need to plan for a benzine gas stop somewhere in the city. This proved to be surprisingly hard even after receiving directions to the nearest station.  A lot of them were either closed or out of business, and Google maps didn't do its magical job. It tried, but often led us to dead ends or roads that didn't exist at all.

Once we found gas, we were able to drive to a town called Shahrisabz, the birth place of Temur Lane located on the other side of the Zarafshan Range. Though the mountains are only about 6,000 feet in elevation, several feet of snow had already blanketed the houses and land while Fog and ice dominated the potholed road. We took advantage of 4WD but many brave tiny sedans blew past us on the hairpin turns. Getting on top of the fog meant fabulous blue skies, fresh air and views of sprawling mountains. I couldn't figure why I was in such a good mood.

I think any decent travel guide and blog should always mention that mountains nearly surround Tashkent and Samarkand. Granted, both cities are so smoggy that it is difficult to see them on a regular day, but we had no idea that we'd see them. It was a nice surprise and even better to be in them.

Zarafshan Mountains outside of Samarkand

Making our way to Shahrisabz

 Methane Gas Station

Sleepy cotton fields

Alleyway to our B&B in Samarkand

Pomegranates will brighten anything in this haze

 

Snow pants in the City

Timur Lane looked like he got pelted in the face with a snowball while riding upon his well endowed horse. I laughed out loud at the thought, but I clamped my mouth shut knowing his ghost could very well come back for a hearty round of torture. Timur the Lame had a bum hip and was missing a few fingers, but make no mistake: this 14th century conqueror was anything but lame. He was scary-smart, scary-brave, and scary-scary, decimating towns and villages all over South Central Asia.

The real reason I dragged the family out into 20 degree weather was to see 17 floors of Soviet style lodging: Hotel Uzbekistan. So very retro and aloof. 

We also walked along the city's canal to Memorial Square where the names of soldiers from the WWII are engraved on hundreds of pages of books. Paths within the site were wept clean of snow, but beyond that the granite steps were prime opportunities for broken wrists, elbows, or tailbones. Thank goodness for extra padding. 

Amir Temur Square

Credit: Mark

Credit: Mark

Turkiston Concert Hall in the distance.

Peaceful vision against the noise of traffic. 

The city never sleeps. Credit: Mark

 

Tashkent Botanic Gardens Walk

For about seventy cents a person, you can get fresh air in Tashkent's Botanic Gardens. The difference of clarity is astonishing and as winter approaches and the heaters turn on, dust and pollution constantly hang in the air. Inside the garden, you are buffered from the smog and city noise by a variety tall trees and thick plant overgrowth. Most plants are unlabeled, or were once labeled but have since faded. It's so fresh here, even the public drop toilets don't stink. We paid an additional fifty cents each to step inside the green house, well heated by radiators, but our favorite part of the garden was the side that backs to the city zoo. I can't identify trees very well, but of the caged birds beyond the fence, I could. Loud birds chirping and squawking made the whole experience feel a bit more wild and remote. 

Tibetan Cherry Tree

untouched photo

 

Amirsoy Ski Resort Is Real Hiking

After last weekend's unwanted political pig wrestling match, it was time to venture out of the city without a guide. Our safest bet was to check out Uzbekistan's newest ski resort: Amirsoy. It was such a hotly anticipated opening, the resort was ready before the road to get there was last year. Hairpins and 12% grades made for an impressive drive to the base where we were guided into the dusty lot in an orderly fashion, but the parking of vehicles was more like a monster truck rally event.

We paid about five dollars a person to ride up to 7,500 feet in their spacious gondola to enjoy a panoramic view from the Maygashkan Mountain. Folks in bedazzled heels, hijabs, track suits, or Jack Wolfskin gear gathered in their respective groups to drink, picnic, take selfies, and hike around the rocky summit. As usual Mark and Deets wore shorts, thus pegging us for Americans and a few folks enthusiastically inquired about the election and getting green card issues solved. Skidding down the rocky Alfa Run to the eastern saddle of the mountain, we enjoyed a short 3-mile hike to a neighboring peak reserved for future development before riding back down. But, is it even a hike if you take the chair lift? Mark says: no way. I say: do whatever it takes to be able to hike alone, and I am okay if it's considered cheating.

Come winter time, Amirsoy should have ten runs, two lifts, five magic carpets, plus a tubing hill. A daily pass costs between $15-24 USD (weekday/weekend) and a season pass is about $400. There are chalets available to rent and the restaurant has fabulous shashlik (meat kebabs) so I can see us returning for much needed mental health breaks and fresh air sooner than later.

We completed the day trip with a loop around another ski resort outside of Chimgan, where there are 6 very vintage lifts and you pay by the ride. I understand the resort is also popular for winter horseback riding and snowmobiling. How that works among the throngs of plastic boot walkers hauling equipment on ice and snow, it must be fascinating. Whatever. Sign me up.

A good chunk of Chimgan village has tightly fit vacation homes called dachas, a wildly popular sanitarium, and countless road side stands selling brilliantly colored plums, pears, apples, and nuts. Oh, and honey with many hues of brown and gold and yellow. Uzbekistan has very active beekeeping associations in all the regions of the country, and with good reason.  Honey is an important product here. According to a 2016 publication about honey in traditional cuisine of Uzbekistan, there are 134 different types of flowers that bees rely on in one region alone. There is a high consumption everywhere and the beekeepers pride themselves on meeting and exceeding international quality standards. They weren't wrong. We all got sugar highs on empty stomachs for the 90-minute drive home.

Dangerous edge! Don't come closer than 2 meters. 

Ironically, the print was so small I had to get super close. 

The edge indeed spills over immediately. 

Gondola summit to the left.

Exploring beyond.

Credit: Mark

Charvak Reservoir

Masked (yay!) vendor who told us all about his extended family living in New York. 

Halloween Hike: Tian Shen-ish Mountains

Even though we like Tashkent so far, it is still a big city, and with big cities there are big headaches: noise, trash, pollution, traffic, harried life. If you squint on a good day against the haze, you can see the western end of the Chaktal Range of the Tian Shan Mountains from the city, and we were aching to go hike them. Getting there wasn't easy though - because there are no hiking guides and no maps (that I have found). Roads are often blocked off for secret military reasons, so you are forced to detour. Forget about consistent GPS and cell phone coverage. Then, if you get to where you want to go, trailheads are not marked and the word "trail" itself is relative, leaving hikers to make it up as they go.

We hired a local guide who kinda knew where to go. She shared some interesting details about the dynamic landscape and boasted about meeting Paul McCartney once. Unfortunately, she also had a lot to say about politics and current events, nothing of which I cared to discuss on my family hiking trip. And her singing was terrible. There had to be a silver lining somewhere. By not having a proper trail - I could socially distance as much as I wanted. 

At this time of year, the mountain's plants are brown and brittle but the spines were as sharp as ever. Only the juniper trees were green and thriving. They made excellent hand holds when we were sliding down or scrambling up. We ate tiny fruit off a tree, which looked like yellow cherries with a pit and tasted like apple-mango. We watched eagles, sparrows, and vultures glide overhead against a panoramic view of snow dusted mountains that spread into Kazakhstan. My children summited the extinct volcano like champs, and the charm of the vastness was enough to put me in a cautiously good mood for the rest of the day. 

donkey: осел (pronounced osel)

Vendors on the R12 highway at dusk.

Khazrati Imam Mosque and the Old City Neighborhood

If I ever go on a walking tour of Tashkent again, I promise to remember the following: 

1. Public bathrooms are very hard to find on walking tours. 

2. Bring water, but not too much (see #1). 

3. Bring snacks. Avoid the kind of hangriness that even ice cream and fresh non can't cure if you wait too long. Also, making unannounced pit stops where the group is likely to lose you before venturing into a maze of unmarked streets is probably not a good idea.  

4. The city is huge. Before we got to the good stuff, we covered long boring distances over littered and broken sidewalks, neglected landscaping, and rows of temporary fencing, all while listening to the roar of urban traffic and construction. 

5. Free walking tours means literally all walks of life could be on the tour: masked, half-masked, non-masked, jerks, cool people, whiners, dog-walkers, nosy and intrusive photographers, networkers, smokers, etc...

6. Beauty is everywhere, especially in between the noisy spaces. You just have to look. It's etched into the stone and wood, sewn into the fabric, glowing from the children, and illuminating the neighborhood paths.

Photo credit: Mark

tradition, chic, & tech

Photo credit: Mark

Details I missed but Mark caught - 

near the statue of Abdulla Qodiriy, a famous Uzbek playwright.

Photo credit: Mark

Khazrati Imam Mosque

Spare Prayer Rugs

Shoe rack

Pre-spaced devotion

Old City and the Kolkouz Canal

Old City alley

 

Street Snax in Tashkent

Along a pedestrian path, a man sells cups of "salqin ichimlik" dispensed out of a large yellow tank hooked up to a cooling unit. Roughly translated as cool-drink, it looks like tinted sugar water and tastes vaguely like a cross between Gatorade and Kool-aide. A small cup costs about 10 cents, a large is 20, and 50 cents for a liter. The cool drink's competitor sells kbac (pronounced kvass) and she charges about a third more. Around this region, kbac is far more popular than cool-drink. It's a traditional fermented Slavic/Baltic beverage commonly made from rye bread. Kbac tastes a bit sour, a bit sweet, and a bit nutty. And, it is overwhelmingly refreshing. In my opinion, it should be served very cold and consumed quickly because flat, warm kbac tastes like sadness. 

Either drink pairs well with fall days and street snacks so long as it is chilled. Interestingly, I found that most restaurants ask customers twice if they want iced drinks over concern for illness - ice is not really a thing here, but cold drinks? Yes. 

For a starch fix, buy a cup-o-corn or cobbed corn seasoned with liquid margarine and served in a plastic bag. The corn doesn't have the esteem of Iowa sweet corn, but it does has an impressive, strong flavor. Savory, Central Asian pastries called somsas might be filled with meat or chicken, pumpkin, or potato and are well worth the price of 25 cents. They are best eaten immediately out of the oven to minimize soggy pastry dough and heartburn from the onions and garlic - which blessedly are staple ingredients here. 

It goes without saying that meat kebabs (shashleek) is always a good decision, as is plov, Uzbekistan's amazing meat and rice dish. Both can be found for about 1 dollar. But it's the fresh lepeshka that makes my eyes roll to the back of my head and sigh with contentment. Most of the road side signs and store fronts advertise it as "non" but it has many names: lepeshka, patir, naan. It's a simple round bread loaf made of high gluten flour, milk/yogurt, yeast, salt, and sugar and is cooked in a tandoor. A whole loaf easily feeds 2-4 people but I will happily eat one by myself. They are cheap too, about 20-25 cents each, so I knew I was getting ripped off by the stone-cold, masked grandmother charged me 50 cents. But no matter. All is right in the world when you get tear (don't ever cut it) into warm lepeshka. Better than that - getting to experience snax with someone you adore. 

Cool drink tankard

Non/Naan/Lepeshka/Patir

Somsa