I arrive in Tashkent and Farham, my driver is awaiting my arrival despite the extremely late hour. My first impression is of a taciturn man and I stuff down my excitement of being in a new country so as not to annoy him. I get strapped in the front seat and he points at me speaking Russian. Hmm, my Russian is rusty but I think he’s trying to tell me that he doesn’t speak any English. I point at him and say “Name?” and he smiles and nods while replying, “Farham”. I point at myself and say “Jennifer. Canada.” I get a smile and we head off. There’s a radar detector attached to the windshield and a female voice barks out “Controla speedo!” which I’m assuming indicates that he’s driving over the speed limit. He drowns her out by playing bad ‘80’s Russian rock but at least it’s drowned out the radar Nazi. We arrive at the hotel and when Farham assists me with my bag I dazzle him with my fluent Russian and say, “Spasibo”. A little something I picked up from watching spy movies and for those of you not in the know, it means thank you. He gives me a big smile and pats my shoulder. Not sure if he’s congratulating me or mocking me but whatever. At least I got a smile out of him.
It’s now after 3am and although I hadn’t slept the night before I’m still messed up with jet lag and now I’ve had another two hour time jump so I’m really f$*ked. At least I have one night to try and get some sleep before the hiking portion of the trip begins.
The mosque next door is beautiful with large archways, bright turquoise ceramic domes and colourful mosaics. There’s an elderly man cleaning a fountain who gives me a smile but then points at my tattoos and shakes his head sadly. I shrug as if saying “Too late. They’re there for good.”
I come across another elderly male and when he smiles at me, the bottom portion of his teeth are plated in gold. Through Google translate, I tell him he’s very handsome and he shyly clasps my hands and giggles.
Fountain man finds me and motions for me to follow him inside the mosque. The cleaning woman gives me a broad smile and when she sees my camera mimics her taking a photo. I figure out that she wants to take a photo of me so I hand her my camera and give a pose. Through Google translate I learn that her name is Barno and she peppers me with questions as to why I’m not married with no children and why I’m in Uzbekistan. As we exit the mosque she gifts me prayer beads and says that we are now friends. At the exit, the head security and a young man join us and I end up having a 30 minute conversation with the three of them. The young man, Salahuddin, speaks a bit of English and translates. The security man is aghast that I’m not married and says he will find a husband for me if I’m willing to convert to Islam. I let him know that I’m unfortunately not a religious person and he then proceeds to tell me that there’s still time for me to have children and it’s my responsibility to continue the generation. I have to let him down easy that it’s not in cards. He also gifts me prayer beads and I thank him profusely. I love Uzbekistan already.
I return to the hotel and meet with our guide, Ismat, and the rest of the group. We also have a student guide, Gulnoza, who will be joining us to practice her English. The group is from all over the world and a mix of ages ranging from early 30’s to 71. Our first stop is the Barak Khan Madrasa which is an architectural marvel. Bright turquoise ceramic domes, soaring minarets and colourful tiles. We only have a short time here so I plan to return for sunset on my own to explore more.
Lunch is our next stop and we visit a large restaurant to try Uzbek’s infamous plov which consists of rice (a lot of rice!), lamb/beef, currants and carrots cooked in large metal bowls over an open fire. It’s served with a fresh tomato salad and crusty bread. Meals always end with black tea with lots of honey. After lunch, my eyes are barely staying open due to my extreme lack of sleep and I’m struggling to stay awake during our museum visit.
I perk up when we go to one of the numerous underground metro stations as it’s decorated beautifully. Each station is unique and gorgeous with ornate domed ceilings and beautiful tiles. Unfortunately I’m so engrossed in taking photos that I realize I’ve been left behind. I look in the area for a bit and don’t see anyone familiar. I text the group chat and ask where they are and when there isn’t an immediate response I decide to leave the station and head out into the city on my own. I can walk back to the Madrasa in 45 minutes according to the map so I head off at a brisk pace. I let the group know I’ll make my own way back to the hotel.
The Madrasa is quiet without the multitude of tourists and the sky lit up purple and pink. The sky starts to darken and I realize I have another 45 minute walk back to the hotel as I didn’t get to go anywhere today to exchange my cash for Uzbek Som so I can’t even pay for a taxi. I’m feeling slightly stressed as I’m carrying over $2000 which Ismat was supposed to take in payment today for the trip. I hope Tashkent is as safe as everyone says. There’s lots of people around so I’m not too worried, but I’m extremely exhausted and dehydrated. At this point I just want to get back to the hotel. After a couple of wrong turns I finally make it back and head straight to bed.
My overall impression of Uzbekistan after day one:
the locals are very friendly and I’m a bit of a curiosity due to my tattoos which are not common here. They don’t smile much at first but once I get them chatting their whole demeanour changes. I find everyone really friendly and very generous.
