Plov in Tashkent
Independence Square in Tashkent
Turkish coffee and Baklava, mmmmm tasty
The Blue Mosque, Istanbul Turkey We arrived in Istanbul, Turkey around nine thirty in the morning and the weather was unbelievable. The air was fresh and a slight breeze greeted us as the glass doors slid open. It was amazing to step out into this world again; its been five years since I last walked the streets of this beautiful city. Things of course have changed and the glimpse I got this time was very brief. Still just being here and the anticipation of seeing the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia again was outstanding. As we approached the images and the feeling of spiritual serenity and history that I felt at sixteen entering the sites overwhelmed me in a very extrasensory type of way. This feeling did not leave me until I entered the Blue Mosque again.
It is interesting that the same spiritual connection that I had the first time I entered the Blue Mosque as a young girl did not repeat itself. Rather, I was overwhelmed by the masses of tourists and locals visiting the mosque. It is still active and clearly very much used by Turkish residents from all over the country. The complex is beautiful. There is no doubt about this. The High ceilings, the dome, the tile and the low lights and soft carpets of the mosque made me feel so comfortable in that setting. It made me feel more at home all those years ago and again this time around. It wonderful to come into a place of worship and not have shoes on, walking barefoot enjoying the atmosphere without the iconization of religious figures.
The Hagia Sophia is a perfect fusion of the Christian faith and Islam. Its cathedral like appearance yet function as a mosque makes it quite a fascinating building, especially since both traditions were embedded into the structure. Of course, all of this blew over me when I was 16. Now everything has so much more significance to me. History, politics, everything becomes illuminated once you can connect what you have learned in books to its presence in every day life.
After the Hagia Sophia we has some free time and a few of us went to get some Turkish coffee and baklava. We entered into a small restaurant with a garden courtyard in the center. It was beautiful and so relaxing to be there. The waiter brought us our coffee in the tiny cups they serve them in with water, since Turkish coffee is a bit strong, and then handed us our delicious baklava. Turkish baklava is the very best. I have tasted many different types of Baklava and Turkish still takes the cake every time. Though my mother's is quite amazing as well. There is just something about the flaky dough and pistachio all drenched in honey that makes it incredible. Apparently I struck it good with the waiter. He brought over a warm strawberry sherbet drink for free. I smiled and accepted. In these lands, everyone thinks I am one of them. A girl from Azerbaijan with pale skin and dark hair is apparently very noticeable here and the features of my face are immediately taken to be some sort of Persian.
We left for Turkey in a rush and flew 4 and a half hours to Tashkent. We arrived around 2am and were exhausted. I remember getting to my hotel and just quickly unpacking a few things to brush my teeth and just completely passing out on my bead. Our group was beyond exhausted and the next day was going to be hard and early.
Tashkent is a beautiful city with great Soviet and National influence. Every where you go there are signs in Russian and people who are either Russian, Uzbek, or a mix of the two. One of the first people we met was our tour guide Nazima, a woman very nostalgia for the Soviet years when she had money and enough to live comfortable and had lost everything with its collapse. She helped us get our money exchanged. The national rate is 15, 000 sum to a 1 dollar, but the rate you really exchange by is the Bazaar rate which is 20,000 sum to a 1 dollar. This means every dollar I own is 2, 000 sum. quite a convenient exchange rate. Later she took us to the Ministry of Islam, a sort of Religious center that regulates the faith in the country. The complex was beautiful, especially since it was the first piece of Islam architecture I had seen so close and still used. I met up with a group of souther Uzbek woman who saw me as an interesting person while I was perusing through a building for the Koran of a famous Imam. The saw my face and decided that they wanted to take a photo with me. It was such a great experience, to speak to them and talk to them in broken Russian. I had no idea what I had done to deserve their attention in the first place.
After visiting a few more building we went to lunch at a local restaurant. There I realized how similar all the food was to Azeri food. With the exception of this one dish, thats name escapes me. It involves having noodles mixed in with horse meat. Well, I tried some of the noodles and steered clear of the horse meat. I did however have some amazing plov. The men make it here in a huge wok looking thing. It was quite good though a bit too oily and greasy for my taste.
The next day we had another guide. Her name was Julia. WHAT A CONTRAST?! She was Russian. Her parents were Russian and she could not speak a word of Uzbek. She spent the entire day walking around spewing nationalistic data statistics, talking and texting on her cell phone, and just being unbelievably rude. By the end of the day with her, the professors on our trip were in uproar and sent that girl packing without a tip. Younger and Russian, she stood in such stark contrast to the older and Uzbek Nazi. Nazima was reminiscent of the Soviet Years but she was genuine about the history and a great help to us. She was a great guide and never once was she rude, always looking to make sure we were given fair prices and fair deals. Julia was scamming us left and right and getting kickbacks , lurking in a nearby corner, for every sale a master made to us. Needless to say I was infuriated with her.
There was one good thing about that day. We got to go visit the Oriental Institute which was where our professor did most of her Phd dissertation work. It was wonderful. I spoke to a man who is a specialist on Iranian studies in Russian about his life and work there. It was quiet great and so interesting to get his perspective on the politics of the region, especially since he just came back from Iran that friday. He made a joke saying, " you know i have been going to these conferences since 2004. For some reason the U.S. was not there this year. I wonder why?" he grins mischievously. A nearby scholar and I answer in one voice, "Ahmadenijad".
Well its getting late and I fear my internet connection for the hour will soon be up. I will update you with Khiva and the Yurt camps some time tomorrow. Until my next post!
