Today as we were walking on Furmanova Street with Szofia I saw a sign on the door of a small pet SHOP. (See photo album with same title.) It read: Entry 50 tenge (US$0.40 or NZ$0.60). I guess it is a way to get some income if sales are down. There are precious few animals for sale, a few boring fish, a couple of birds, that's all. But you would not know it before you enter as they put a few cloths (No, not real curtain) on the windows from the inside. I have a few more ideas for them for earning money in these days of tight credit: 

 

Greeting, 'please' or 'thank you' 100 tenge each (these are rare things here so they don't come cheap),

Answering customer's question in connection with possible purchase 80 tenge (as an incentive half of it is credited towards the price in case customer does buy the subject of the question),

Catching the fish you bought 150 tenge/piece over price (salesperson might have to put mobile phone down so it's a special favour)

 

I think I can make up a few more ideas just wait till the shop owner contacts me.

 

 

That reminds me: on Friday I was shopping sweets and gift bags as we were invited as guests to the countryside to the family of Tristan's colleague who wanted us to experience real Kazakh hospitality. I had most things sorted but still wanted to know the price of a gift bag. After some search in vain I asked the shop assistant how much was it. It proved to be a radical idea and I was let know fast that I should not get ideas above my station; The shop assistant shrugged her shoulder and turned away. However as I insisted she went away to ask but I could tell that she crossed me off her Christmas card list.

Morning of the same day: Having a look around in Esprit. Found a nice top and reached out for it at the same time as the shop assistant coming from behind me wanted to rearrange the rack and put some more hangers on. With a few rough moves she made me understand that I was on her way and was not fast enough to clear out. I moved a bit but she was not happy and kept pushing for space so I just stepped aside and said: go ahead darling! My cheeky behaviour made her so furious that she went around me threw the tops on the folding table and disappeared. I got a few dirty looks from her colleague, too.

 

Now, naturally I DO NOT expect you to believe these stories. Unless you have lived here. In that case you will have no doubts.

Today Szofia and I went to Mega Centre (big, relatively new shopping mall of Almaty) to get a few things I could not find nearer to us. As I finished shopping I remembered  the camels and decided to take photos of them. As we went to the first one a red uniformed cleaner drew closer and started to circle around me. It was a bit strange and annoying as she kept between me and the camel but finally I managed to take a photo. Walked to the other camel and realised very surprised that now three cleaning ladies in the same uniform pretending to mop but not taking their eyes off me. Any time I expected them to screw off the mop and shoot me with the handle. I just got to the point of taking the photo (slightly nervous to turn my back towards them) of the camel's plate when a very grumpy security guard appeared and said that I can not take photos inside the mall. And he was not joking either. At one point he got close to me and reached out for my camera. However I looked at him and he changed his mind. I asked him why I can not take photos. That was the point when he said something like I should leave. Questions are not taken kindly in this country. Must be the old reflex of the ex USSR.

 

On other occasions at the same place we had been stopped:

Taking the shopping trolley to the car although we had far to much to carry

Using the lift with the shopping trolley (just to be clear, it is a big lift designed for this purpose)

Because Vernon was crying and having a tantrum

Because Luca was skidding on the nice shiny tiles - it is not allowed

Because I wanted to take my (handbag size) backpack into the supermarket

Because I wanted to help myself at the seemingly self help lolly stand of the supermarket after waiting in vain for a few minutes

 

 

I am proud to report that finally my Russian started to improve. Last Monday I had a one hour conversation with a woman who could not speak a word in English. She was with her honorary grandchild (her older sister's granddaughter whose mother studied at Columbia University) and I had Szofia with me and we had a walk together in the garden of the Kastayev Museum of Fine Art. I was having a walk as the Lonely Planet forgot to state the opening days. We exchanged niceties like 'Very nice to meet you' and talked about our families, work, days in general, climate of  Kazakhstan, Hungary and New Zealand etc. I also have chats with the mothers on the playground and suddenly they seem so much friendlier. The only drawback that Ramil's grandmother also realised that I understand some Russian. Ramil is a friendly but slightly neglected kid of Luca's age with a heart of gold and a very rough busy-body grandmother. These days I have to put a hat on Szofia if I want to stop her lecturing me and she expects me to tell Vernon to keep himself sand free in the sandpit. I refused to do this latter one yesterday and put only a sunhat on Szofia when questioned why she doesn't have a hat on. Actually now that I think about it maybe Ramil's grandmother hasn't realised yet that I understand some Russian. Yesterday she went into a lengthy complaint to another mother about me because of the lack of a proper (warm) hat on Szofia's head ('And yesterday she had NOTHING on her head!'). It was 28 or 29 degrees outside. Luckily the other mum didn't think that I'm doing anything wrong and we had a friendly chat a bit later while Ramil's grandmother explained Ramil (with the help of a stick:-( ) not to follow Vernon's example of throwing sand on himself. She is also my new self appointed helper. When I tell the kids that we are going home she only waits a few seconds before starting to encourage Luca to pick up the sandpit toys or taking Vernon off the slide telling him that he has to go because 'lyalya ustala' (baby is tired) wants to go home. I must admit it's mildly amusing to watch the whole proceedings. The kids don't even dream of questioning her authority. 

 

 

My newfound language ability made me understand something. In the early days in Almaty I used to think that they are cheating when they charged me more in the shops or at the veggie stands than the real price. By now I know that it's the Non-Russian-Speaker's tax why I used to pay more. I don't have to pay this tax anymore. Things usually happen on the following way: I go to a shop where they don't know me to get a drink or snack. I say an audible 'zdravstvuyte' (Good day) when I go in to make it obvious that I'm a foreigner. I choose what I want, check the price and try to give exact change. Then I'm told that it's not enough and they write the 'correct price' into the calculator. Then I ask 'Skolko?' and wait for the answer without looking at the calculator. And then they look at the money I gave and realise very surprised that I gave enough. It happens this way more frequently than not. The NRS tax can be anywhere between 10-200% over RSP (Russian Speaker's Price). More than 200% is cheating.

The first warmish weekend when we went to Panfilov park we were shocked to see what looked like a dozen of white limousines decorated for wedding. When we went in for first sight I counted 7 brides. Later I counted another three although Tristan insisted that it was the other 7 moving around. Of course for him one white dress is like the other.

 

Couples go to Panfilov park to pay their respect to the solders who gave their life to defend their land from the Nazis. And to get some nice photos. They leave flowers, often the brides bouquet at the eternal flame. I think it's a nice tradition. It seems that there are so much more weddings here than in NZ. (Of course it's much less public there.) Brides and groom's are usually very young here. If you are not studying and still not married by the age of 22 you count as an 'old maid'. I wonder how they are doing with divorces.

 

This is a sign on the temporary walls of a building site near Tritan's work. If they are racing time to build whatever they are supposed to then they are definitely loosing. The building site looks exactly the same as it did nearly 2 years ago when we arrived. And it's not the only one in Almaty. Look at the pictures below of the building site we can see from our kitchen window.

 

. January 2006

Today 29 April 2008

In 2006 when we arrived there were statues of horses around Almaty painted with all sorts of patterns. They looked shabby by the time I saw them. Then they disappeared and in came the camels last year. I like them. I took photos of a few unfortunately some of the best ones I forgot to take a photo of and they are gone. I will try get pictures of a few more. See the camels at the photo albums.

The beggars of Almaty I believe are a different class than beggars of the world outside the ex USSR. They generally are women of Russian origin (Most of the old Kazak people are looked after by their family as family is traditionally very strong.) who are too old to work and almost without exception (but of course there ARE exceptions) in poor but clean clothes. They are not people who were too lazy to work or spent their money instead of saving for their retirement. They are women who worked hard all their life. They lived through WWII and the rebuilding of the country. They were born in the USSR and believed in the ideals of the Socialism. To use the expression of a local friend of mine they were true Soviet people.  They never earned much but were told that they will be looked after by the state once they are old. However as everything changed they aren't looked after, their pension is very low and without family help they are forced to beg for money. Up till last year they could not be put out of their flat if they failed to pay the rent but according to our ex driver Sergey last year they passed a new law and old people are not anymore protected. We even met a few who could speak some English and one of them used to be an English teacher. We generally give money to them and explained to the children about them. Two 'babushka's are especially close to our heart as we used to pass them at the back of Ramstore after coming home from shopping before we had a driver. These days we make a special trip to give our donation. It's nice to see that most people give them some money so they should be OK. However it still makes me said that they have to beg for something that should be rightfully theirs.

 

Of course there are 'traditional' beggars here, too. Young women carrying dirty babies and smoking and being very pushy indeed, drunk men asking for money and all the other kind.

Most of this I wrote quite a while ago but we got a bit busy and I never managed to finish and post it.

 

A day after Tristan's parents arrived we set off for our big adventure in Uzbekistan. People who had been there advised to take with us everything that we can not go without. This meant packing 56 little UHT milk drinks for the kids. The flight was quite peaceful we were playing 'musical seats'. Luckily Jan Jaq and Poppa were very popular with the kids which meant that I could read quite a few pages of the Lonely Planet.

 

Tashkent (Day 1 and 2)

The arrival to Tashkent was very interesting. People left the plane like they all are part of the 'Amazing Race'. Anyway we finally got through passport and luggage check got picked up and transported to the hotel that was a very pleasant surprise. It had a lovely garden that the kids thoroughly enjoyed. After the men arranged payments for the tour, etc we set off to find a local restaurant. After living in Kazakhstan for almost a year we were surprised and impressed how clean Tashkent was. (After 10 minutes walk Tristan suggested that we should move to Uzbekistan.) Finally we settled for an Italian restaurant that seemed to be 'the place to be seen at' by local standard. We walked home on a different way and were surprised to see a different side of Tashkent only about 15 m walk from the restaurant. People were sitting on the pavement front of their houses which must have been very old as the floor level of the buildings inside were 10-15 cm below the level of the pavement. Poverty was quite obvious.

 

Next morning our guide Kamol arrived. He spoke very good English and explained that in his language there is no word for tourist therefore we are guests. He said a lot of interesting things about history but all together he sounded like a propaganda tape for the current regime. So we learned that although things are not perfect yet it's only because there had been not enough time since they won their independence. It was not mentioned that the current leader of the country is the same person as the last leader of the communist regime. We've seen some lovely places but not exactly what we were interested in like to see the bazaar, the old city, etc. However we saw all the new achievement of architecture, a lovely new monument where a giant globe replaced "the second biggest Lenin statue of the former USSR". There were a lot of things that were “the second biggest” in the former USSR. Finally (after some pretty firm requesting) we were allowed to pop into the old city for a few minutes.

 

During lunch we learned a lot about the traditional Uzbek family. It is always the youngest member of the family or the youngest son's wife who has to do the majority of chores around the house. It would be a shame to allow someone old to work too hard. Arranged marriages are still in fashion. According to our guide it is a good thing and he was seemingly happily looking forward to his marriage in the autumn (it was the beginning of June) with someone who has not yet been chosen for him by his mother. There were only a few things that were clear about the future bride: she must have higher education so she would not feel out of place if the family is discussing foreign politics or science, she must know how to wash clothes and keep the house clean and she MUST obey her mother-in-law. (Women always move to their husband’s family.) All the rest would fall in place with time according to Kamol. "It is the tradition and it works". He did not talk about the alarmingly high occurrence of domestic violence in Uzbekistan.

 

We had a very interesting day that has not finished yet when we were dropped off at the airport to catch a flight to Urgench. After some waiting during which I tried to exhaust Vernon by running around between the seats (and managed to exhaust myself) we started off to the plane. We did not really understand why were people pushing and shoving each other on the way up as everybody had their numbered seat as usual. However it became clear that the seat number is a mere formality and first come first served. We had to get pretty firm with a few drunken gentlemen in order to be able to sit together on our reserved seats. Some people had cardboard boxes stored in the aisle which they picked up when the food trolley came around. A long white bearded white dressed holy man had a huge flower basket with him. It seems that safety policies are not quite as strictly observed in Central Asia as in other parts of the world. It was all very relaxed. The flight was short and we were picked up again on the airport to be transported to Khiva. Khiva is at the west of Uzbekistan and here we finally saw the Uzbekistan we imagined. There were very few cars (still the only two other cars that we saw for a while managed to have a bit of a ‘road rage’ and do some dangerous overtaking on the otherwise empty road) on the road but we saw quite a few carts pulled by donkeys. The arrival to the hotel was great. It was a great building and we started to wonder if we can afford to stay at such a magnificent hotel. It became a bit lower key in the rooms but it was nice and comfortable and we could see the gate of the old city from our windows less than a hundred meters away. After a short while we set off to find the 'chayhana' (teahouse) in the direction the receptionist gave with a pretty general wave towards the square. In front of the hotel there was a huge pool full of dirty water and the local kids were swimming in it. We were quite an attraction for the kids I believe mainly because of Vernon’s very blond hair. Some of the kids came up to kiss him. As we were walking around we saw the locals squatting front of the houses chatting, preparing food and children running around. It all seemed very friendly. Nothing seemed to be open but we found a door at the back of a building that led into a courtyard. There was a man in the corner watching TV half lying on a mat next to a very low table. In the middle there was a white plastic table with chairs. They assured us that they do serve dinner and we agreed in 'plov', a local rice, meat and vegetable dish. In a minute or two the most magnificent feast started to appear on our table. There were several bowls of salads, fruit, nuts and edible seeds. After a long waiting - while we could hear some local music and I enjoyed the sight of the women working half in half out of the kitchen occasionally going to a hole in the middle of the courtyard to pour the waste water in - when we were almost full we also got the plov. At the end the bill for the whole dinner was 20 000 sum which is about 18 US$. Half of it was the cost of the beer Tristan and Peter had. So it was 2 dollars per adult for food, no charge for the kids.

 

Khiva (Day 3)

Next day (our third day) we set off to see the old city. It is a UNESCO heritage site now and it's all true what the lonely planet wrote about it: they made it so clean and tidy that it was hard to believe that people used to, in fact still live there. Our guide explained a lot about life in the old days and it didn't exactly make us wish we could live in Khiva a couple of centuries ago. We had a look at the prison and found it surprisingly small. Soon we learned it was small because the faith of people was decided very soon after they got to the prison: they let them go (very rarely) or they died some horrific death. It was illustrated on the walls and if we would not understand it immediately our guide made sure that we have full understanding. After not very long we decided to ‘just’ enjoy the place so the kids went for camel rides, we set in the shade for a while and after that we had a walk going after our nose. It was a good idea as we found the part that still looked like a place inhabited by people. It was out of the tourist area so we were looked at, talked to and even followed by a little boy till he got bored of it. It added to our ‘attraction value’ that Vernon was pushed around in his stroller and Luca carried (while sleeping) on Tristan’s back in the baby carrier that we inherited from Max and Tristan’s parents carried around half of the world to get to us. This piece of equipment was admired and also a source of amusement for the locals everywhere we went in Uzbekistan. There were very few western tourists and we have not met any other with kids.

 

While walking around I wanted to take a photo of two little girls playing on a little platform the kind many houses seemed to have front of them. I asked their grandfather if I could which resulted in the old man lining them up neatly. Not exactly the effect I was looking for. However they still looked very cute. It was very hot but I found it very pleasant especially when we set down in the shade. Lunch in the old city was a feast similar to dinner the previous night. The setting was even nicer. In the afternoon we had a look at the carpet shop. Three women were sitting in a row and their hands worked so fast that I had no chance to work out how they make the double knots. The guide said that they are able to make 10-15cm a day if they are good. They don’t only make the knots but they also have to be able to interpret a drawing of the pattern as they are working. Apparently they have all sorts of back and joint problems after about 10 years doing this job. Dinner was an easy to forget matter except for the toilet. We had to ask for a key, the girl from the restaurant came with us, went into the toilet and opened the tap above a plastic bowl then went outside and waited till the person inside finished. The water in the bowl was used to ‘flush’ the toilet. It was luxurious compared to the public toilet I used in the afternoon.

 

It was interesting that many women were wearing similar dresses made of the same patterned 100% artificial fabric we saw on the hotels outdoor tables in Tashkent. They must have endless supply from this fabric.

 

On the way to Bukhara (Day 4)

In the morning – after a good breakfast – we said good bye to Khiva. I was a bit sad as it looked like a city from another world that probably won’t be there for very long. (Although it seems that 70 years of communist rule has not succeeded changing it much.) We enjoyed the lack of cars the openness of people and the whole atmosphere. However I was looking forward to the drive through the Karakum Desert although we thought that it will be a bit much for the kids. I’ve never been to any desert before and only saw the Sahara Desert in movies. I was not disappointed. It was big with hardly anything breaking the open view although it had more plants than I imagined in a desert after the movies. At one place we saw a camp of yurts and the people leaving in them. Around midday we ‘talked’ to the driver that we would like to stop for lunch at a ‘chayhana’. A while later we saw one but he just drove on so we thought that he didn’t understand what we wanted but he explained that that one was not good as it was Kazak and we will stop at an Uzbek one. So we did in a little while. There were a few people there already sitting around those low tables on platforms outside in the company of a few million flies. We chose to sit inside. Flies were still frequent here but it was much cooler. In spite of Luca’s enthusiasm for the Asian style seats we set at the ‘European’ tables which were the usual once white now grayish plastic garden sets. This restaurant must have been the dirtiest I’ve ever seen in my life. I could not help but wonder what the Kazak ‘chayhana’ could have been like. Well, I had not been out of the developed world that much and we were kind of playing it safe in Almaty. I sank so deep that I even wiped my obviously dirty glass with my serviette before I used it. We had some green tea in those little Chinese bowls. Some of the tea leaves stayed at the bottom of the bowl and the driver showed us how to get rid off it by pouring it out onto the ground (inside!) with one sudden move. Although it felt strange for first we got used to it very fast. Tristan positively enjoyed this exercise. We ordered sashlik – what else – and really enjoyed it especially Vernon. I would love to write about the toilet (one of my favorite topics) but I must admit I didn’t see it. It smelled so badly from 10 meters that I chose to have a little expedition to the desert instead of using it. The second half of the drive was very similar to the first half so we were looking forward to arriving to Bukhara. For some mysterious reason there are a lot of stories of Hodja Nasreddin between the popular kids’ stories in Hungary so I was looking forward to seeing his city, Bukhara. Our hotel was in the old Jewish quarter. (There are very few Jews left in Bukhara due to their freedom to travel since independence and due to the freedom of others expressing hatred since independence had been won.) A few steps from the hotel door took us to a relatively big road but if we turned left or right immediately as we stepped out we found ourselves in the maize of little dirt roads. Most of these roads are not only narrow but make a turn after each door leading into a house. Being in the bathroom I could hear people talking like they were under the window. I guess they actually were. There are no secrets in a town like this.

Our hotel was a small family business run by a young guy. He spoke very good English. He was very proud of the hotel and explained that each room is different, hand decorated and they have names. I loved the eclectic decoration of our rooms. We put the fragile things to higher shelves before the kids could get to them. The guy was nice and went out of his way to make us feel comfortable. He even moved a table downstairs for us for the breakfast because we were worried about the children’s safety upstairs. We got some advice where to go for dinner and took off. The restaurant that was recommended was at the side of a big pool. This time we set at one of the low tables on the platform. It was actually more comfortable than I thought after trying it only for a short time in Tashkent. And we ordered sashlik. It was only our forth day – and third sashlik – in Uzbekistan so we still looked forward to it with enthusiasm. After dinner we took a few dozen photos on the ‘tourist camels’ (we only learned it later that that’s how they call them) looked around the square and headed home.

 

Bukhara (Day 5 & 6)

We spent our day sightseeing. Our guide was very good and considered the fact that we have little kids with us. Our first stop was the old Summer Palace. Here the most interesting was a room with some everyday objects. The kids were interested in the cradle. Babies sleep almost on floor level tied down to their bed by a strep of cloth in the first year of their life and instead of nappies they use an (in my view) odd object to channel their urine out of the cradle. Later we went to the Gold Bazaar, the trading domes that miraculously survived through the early Soviet times when they were destroying a lot of the old things and to see a mosque where people were gathering for prayer. Vernon made friend with two old men sitting around. He got a lolly from them and we took a picture. I believe old Uzbek men must always have lollies in their pockets as the kids got presented with them quite a few times. Tristan was oddly interested in the site where two British guys were executed after not a little physical and psychological torture. We saw lots of great buildings but they started to fade into each other. The afternoon was for rest as the kids were tired enough to have their naps. The next day we relaxed without guided tour and it was a great morning for Tristan and me as Peter and Jacquie looked after the kids. We took some great walks around the less touristy parts of the city. People sometimes asked where we were from and we were impressed by the number of locals who could speak good English.  We had a great lunch of fresh fruit and bread that was sold all around town from little trolleys. And later a dinner of sashlik, of course. We also went to see a puppet show about the marriage of Hodja Nasreddin’s son. It was great and we learned a lot about local tradition although most of the show was done by human ‘actresses’ the puppets only appeared at the beginning. We were the only spectators of the show.

 

Day 7

We were off to the railway station pretty early to catch a train to Samarkand. We played a bit of ‘musical chairs’ before we got our seat but this time we were better at the game than on the plane. Soon after the train started off they started to serve food. A woman was walking up and down with full plates of some rice dish for almost the whole time we were on the train and she was still getting new plates when we got off a few hours later. We had doubts about the quality and safety of the food when we saw that many of the locals refused to eat it. We all enjoyed the train trip especially after the TV that broadcasted some loud music broke down. I was not as impressed with Samarkand as I was with the previous cities but I think it was only because buildings and medressas started to blur together. Our hotel was the worst so far but it had a swimming pool that made up for the other shortcomings. The kids really enjoyed it. The restaurant where we had our daily sashlik was really interesting with big open upstairs terrace. We ordered soup for Vernon. His food arrived before ours. He had it with gusto but after he finished remarked rather sadly: “No sashy (his name for sashlik) today”. We had dinner at the same place and fully enjoyed the terrace. At the end of the dinner it took Tristan and Peter a little while to count out the over 70 thousand sum we had to pay from the relatively small notes. The best part of the day was the night visit to the Registan with Vernon in the baby carrier. The lights were just coming on and it was very friendly. Many of the locals were keen to talk to us.

 

Day 8

 

Although I didn’t feel much like a guided tour we set off to see the Guri Amir Mausoleum where Timur is buried. There is a single block dark-green jade in the middle. Unfortunately the windows are specially covered to prevent polluted air to come in so we could not see the real colour of the jade as it can only be seen when the sun shines on it. However it was worth it just to see the building itself. And Vernon had a real good play in the ruins that were outside around the building. We also went to see what seemed like a city of tombs. To get to them we had to go through a cemetery what is still in use. The headstones were rather unusual. Most of them had the picture of the deceased person engraved into dark stone. They were so well done they looked like photos. Some people had their full work title, too. I guess they never wished in their death-bed that they would have spent more time with their family.

When we got to the tombs it was a great surprise and well worth the effort getting there. The tombs were on two sides of a ‘street’ like houses. Most of them decorated with mosaics in beautiful shades of blue and green. The effect of these colourful buildings together in the bright sunshine was so amazing that I had to admire them in spite of seeing so many similar style buildings during the trip. For lunch we went to a Korean restaurant our guide suggested and we were up for a surprise. We had a chance to wash our hands as we entered, everything was clean and we could choose from several different dishes. No one ordered sashlik. During lunch our guide was talking about life in Uzbekistan both before and after independence. She was of Russian origin, her parents, a doctor and a nurse, were sent from Russia to Uzbekistan to work there. It was normal practice during Stalin’s regime and they had no choice but to go where they were sent. Our guide said that young people were brainwashed and she often had arguments with her mother who was a practising catholic. According to her it was just much later that she realized the faults of the system. However she did not believe that independence brought much relief to average people. On the day of the independence many people lost all the money they had in the banks as it was out of the country and Russia refused to give it back. In many cases it was their life savings. Since then very few people in Uzbekistan trust the banks. Families are very big, 5-7 children in one family in the cities is not unusual and 10-12 on average in the countryside. (Over half of the population is under 15 years of age according to the Lonely Planet.) Young people move away because of the lack of opportunities. Our guide’s sons live in Moscow. It was much less optimistic than the picture our first guide painted of the country. 

As the closure of the day we had a great train trip to Tashkent. It was second class but funnily much more comfortable than our previous first class trip. However they did not serve food, only coffee and tea. It was nice to arrive back to the same hotel where we started our trip. Especially that this time we got a room where the air conditioning worked.

 

Day 9

 

Not much to write about the last day. We went to a medressa to do some souvenir shopping. Our guide in Bukhara said that the papier-mâché boxes originate from Tashkent and gave us the name of a medressa in Tashkent where we could buy some nice things. There were many other things beside of the papier-mâché boxes. It was heartbreaking how vendors bargained with themselves offering their wears for less and less. I wanted to see all the shops but felt bad afterwards as I could not buy things in all of them. Finally I bought a couple of small boxes at the first shop where I had a look.

 

After the medressa we went to see the metro station dedicated to commemorate the role of the USSR in space travel.  We were not allowed to take photos. (I wonder why?) Then we were walking around for ages to find somewhere a place to change some money. Finally we were forced to walk back to the hotel as we had no local money but turned out it was not that far. The rest of the afternoon was spent with packing and lying around planning the next few days.  On the airport we made every effort to spend our thousands (few dollars) on a very limited choice of things.  

 

 

A few things

 

In every place we stayed in Uzbekistan there were signs next to the toilet instructing the user to throw the used toilet paper into the bin instead of the toilet. Most bins were without lid sometimes with a trail of ants leading to it. Peter found out that it’s because the outdated sewage system can not take the toilet paper. I am pretty obedient when it comes to signs in foreign countries but I must admit I was not this time.

 

We were looked at a lot because we had small children with us. Tristan thought that we actually ruined the mood of a couple of young tourist guys when they saw us. They believed that they were pretty out there going to a place like Uzbekistan then they saw that we went a step further, we were doing it pregnant plus two small kids.

 

In Bukhara I found a brilliant toilet at an upstairs restaurant opposite the minaret. It was great. There was toilet paper, light, fan, running water and the toilet was flushable. I mean it really flushed the water tank was not only for decoration as I got used to by this time. Even more, no one tried to stop me using it although I went straight for it before ordering anything.

 

Lots of people spoke good English and they really seemed to value education.

 In spite of the (by western eyes) obvious poverty people seemed happy and were friendly. Much friendlier than in Kazakhstan.

So I was silent for a while. We were away, before and after that Tristan worked all the time and when I accidentally had a chance to get here I was unable to save what I wrote.

 

Anyway, I still want to write about our holiday in Uzbekistan. I think I will just put on some pictures for appetizer and write the story of it in the next few days.

Yeah, last Saturday (the first Saturday that we officially had a driver) we went to the 'beach'. Of course no sea or ocean near to us but there is a lake near Almaty and the locals call it the 'beach'. We asked Sergey to come for 9. We put the car seat in for Vernon, attached the clip for Luca, then went to Ramstore and waited for a reasonably long time for the bakery to have something to sell. People are late starters here especially on the weekend. So it was nearly 10 by time we really hit the road. There was an accident on the main road so we got stuck in a traffic jam while Sergey explained that there should not be a traffic jam here on the weekend. Finally we were out of the city and all of us enjoying the ride when another car was signaling to us that something is wrong with our car. It was a flat tire. The whole thing of getting out of the city was so nice that we even enjoyed this part. Tire got changed and soon we arrived to the lake and found a little closed 'beach' with a little difficulty. It was magical. We were the second ones to arrive but soon more families came. I liked the ones arriving right after us. There were about 8-10 of them and the women were carrying big pots full of food while the men had a couple of trays of soft drinks and lots of beer. They went to the covered area with tables and immediately got down to the business of eating. When I passed them looking for something someone called out a big "Good morning, how are you?".

 

Tristan and the kids changed to their togs and got into the water. The sand was really hot and Sergey got busy making a little wet path from the water to our spot. After the first dip I put some sunscreen on the kids. Luca remarked that others don't put 'cream' on because they are not New Zealanders and not scared of the sun. The kids really enjoyed the water although Vern wasn't as keen as Luca. We had our croissants, went for a few more dips (not me) then started home. Traffic jam was still on and we missed most of the first All Blacks test of the season.

 

 

When Tristan's parents arrive we are going to have a holiday in Uzbekistan together so the other day we went to the embassy to arrange the visas. All other people who were waiting there were from this area. Most of them must have been from the same group (but not Kazakhs) arriving at different times as they seemed to know each other. The men shook hand then put the same hand on their heart and bowed towards each other. It was not that hard to imagine them wearing 'kaftan' instead of western clothes. It was all very friendly. As soon as someone realised that we need glue for the photos came up to Tristan to offer one. Then we had our turn at the 'window' (there was no obvious queue or numbers so we just guessed) and things got interesting. The embassy worker insisted that he can not give a visa to Luca because the photo in her passport is a baby photo (she was about 4 months there) and the photo for the visa shows a much older child. Then we were told to sit down and wait.  The kids started to entertain themselves by running along the long pavement to the gate saying 'zdravstvuite' (Good day) to the guard then run back. After a while a woman in a very tight top came and had a look at the photo and Luca and the guy offered some chocolate for the kids. He must have been acquainted with the crazy western idea of 'no sweets for kids' because to my great surprise he asked if they are allowed any chocolate before he gave it. Kids here eat sweets by the kg and adults often gift kids with sweets. Soon after that we got the visas for all of us. However instead of the usual 1 months they gave them for the exact dates so we'd better not miss our plane.

...so it might be time to make a little balance.

 

I still like average locals. Of course not exactly at times when they get overly nosy but most of the time. They are nice and caring. Especially when you try to speak Russian to them. And they are definitely charming towards kids. In one of the shops I made friend with all the female shop assistants since I started to take Vernon with me. He can say a lovely and clear "priviet" (hello) and they all seem to love it.

 

However I lost all my sympathy towards locals who choose to do business with expats only. Just one example that makes me really angry. The rental price of apartments and houses artificially put up buy landlords and agencies. There isn't a healthy market here. No foreigners can own real estate here but they have to live somewhere. The rent of our apartment went up 67% in the less than one year we are here. (Official inflation is around 10%) But I heard worse example. A friend of mine said that their landlord put up (well, wanted to put up because they rather moved) the price with 75% just after 4 months though they had a year contract with fixed price. Landlords have the right to throw you out any time. The contract only binds the tenant. And they make you understand it very fast. It's not exactly a reassuring feeling with two kids. We had our rent price 'discussion' with our landlady yesterday. Well, she told us that she's putting up the price with 34%. Nearly 50% of the price at our arrival. When we asked why is it so high the answer was, she wants to renovate the apartment. Tristan got excited and asked when will she get the works done. Answer; after we moved out. We thought that we misunderstood it. Unfortunately not. So by my understanding we have to pay for renovation we are not going to enjoy so she could ask a much higher rent from the next tenant. This double dipping is a normal practice here. A driver just started with us. The first day she was an hour late to take me to yoga, 45 minutes late to pick me up (she could not find her way back) and she phoned us in the afternoon that she can not take me to pick up Luca as her car is broken down. She will call us when it's repaired. Naturally she expects to be paid in the meantime. Talking to expats who had been living in a few other countries before it's far the worst here.

 

...Well, we just met a guy who would be our new driver. He turned out to be a very pleasant guy. We could not agree in the price but we had no hard feelings towards each other in spite of that. What a nice surprise that it can happen this way. Now he is helping us find someone who would be happy with the part time job we offer. In the meantime he offered to work for us (with our conditions!) till he finds us a driver. Pinch me. I think I was only dreaming.

 

All the above was written a week ago and I forgot to publish it. By now Sergey (pronunciation SirGay :-)) has been driving us for six days. He is great. Always on time, always available, happy to drive anywhere and always finds his way. So it's all good. Now we just have to find a house with garden to have the things we would expect to have in NZ and then we'll sure not to save a cent. I figured that expat life is good if you are single or have a very high position. Best to have both. Of course there are the up sides of living here. We have a nanny/housekeeper though Tristan thinks that the cleaners we had in NZ done the job in fifth of the time than Olga does. Of course I don't mean to cry. We are still OK and will be much wiser when we choose the next place.

 

 

...you think that lino coverage on the floor is not only practical but actually looks nice.

 

...you believe that 24 hour security at a house is an absolute necessity.

 

...you started to think that you will need a metal door on your house when you move home.

 

...you think that car seats for kids are only used by overprotective parents with OCD.

 

...you find a recently cleaned street rather empty.

 

...your preschoolers avoid broken glass without being warned.

 

...you find that the messy playground is not untidy but rather just full of adventure.

 

...you get scared/worried when the checkout lady smiles at you.

 

...you buy several of certain things in the supermarket because you expect a shortage.

 

...you know which online shopping companies DO deliver to Kazakhstan.

 

...you started to think that traffic is not too bad here.

 

...sitting in a car you think that pedestrians are careless maniacs jumping onto the crossing when the light is green for them.

 

...you get the local price from a taxi driver and he doesn't even try to get more out of you.

 

...you forget something but unable to force yourself to go to the house with shoes on in spite of being in a hurry.

 

...you take the broken down lift/lack of hot water/lack of electricity with philosophical patience.

 

...'не работает' (it's not working, broken) is part of your normal vocabulary.

 

...you started to think that 'America's next topmodel' is a quite good program.

The road building on Al-Farabi is in full swing now. They probably even started to make the plans. I don't mean it as a joke. There must be very little planning behind the whole thing. There were beautiful young chestnut trees on both side of the road. Only two or maybe three years old. They all got cut out. I think the beautiful tulip beds will be sacrificed, too. Before they could even flower.

This big road has several large blocks of flats on both side. The inhabitants of these buildings have no idea yet how they are going to get out with their cars once there is a hole where the road used to be. No one else seems to worry about it. Cars that had to come to these houses tried to get through between the concrete barriers on the first few days. I listened and watched a few Orwellish scenes when policemen from cars were yelling  through loudspeakers in Russian and English: Stop! Get out of the mashina (car in Russian but they used it in the English context, too.)! It sounded scary.

Of course there was no plan how to keep the traffic flowing. The only information was that motorists should use the streets parallel below and above Al-Farabi. Many buses stopped running after the first couple of days as they are private buses and don't run if they don't make money and of course they don't make money as they are sitting in traffic jams half of the day.

Our street became uncrossable. The traffic tripled, the cars are going faster as there is no divider in the middle.

There are ready plans for new buildings that has to be modified although the plans were approved only a short while ago.

...The tulips got saved. On Thursday walking home from kindy we saw people coming with buckets to get some tulips up. First they just picked the best ones but as they started to run out they took whatever was left. By now all the beds are digged up and not a single bulb is left there. Luca is very happy that the tulips are saved. On Thursday I allowed her to pick one flower and to pick up one whole plant without the bulb that was lying between the plants.

Although some skeptics are talking about snow in May and other funny things I think spring arrived finally. Two weeks ago I went to yoga in my dawn coat and today even Vernon was wearing only a little t-shirt and a hoodie for the playground.

 

Lots of repair and building started in the last couple of weeks. On our street they replaced the broken parts of the park benches and repainted them all. Many apartments in the buildings around us are getting redecorated. Prosperity clearly shows in this city. Especially when you look at cars. You can't swing around a cat without hitting a Hummer.

 

Today they closed down Al-Farabi Rd between Dostyk and Furmanova. They are building a whole new road with two very complicated big intersections. Unfortunately our picturesque little street fell victim of this construction. They took up the concrete flower box and huge concrete ball dividers to make the traffic more easy flowing. We are very said. It was a nice and unusual feature and I doubt that they will ever make it back. And the practical part that because of this divider it was an unusually safe road to cross.

 

Might be because of spring that people seem to smile much more. And they are much friendlier.

 

The other day I went to the Green Bazaar and did the usual rounds for cheese, smoked meat and a few other little things. (First time since the warm weather arrived and I had a sharp reminder in the meat area how smelly it gets in warm weather.) By now I always buy things from the same vendors. Most of them does not worry anymore about me not speaking Russian. They ask me how I was, chat about the weather and add little monologues about charging a bit less because I keep coming back. And these conversations repeated so many times by now that I know what they say but I have no answer. Although yesterday I did answer the 'cheese-lady's' question enquiring about the temperature outside. I said that it's warm, very warm. She was very pleased with my answer. I think it was more the fact that I answered than the content of it.

 

I think that there is a conspiracy here to keep those 'rich foreigners' off the buses. (Hardly any of them ever considers using them anyway.) I hardly ever see the same bus numbers in the bus stop where I always get on. Today seeing a new number again I asked one of the passengers if it goes to my destination. He said 'NYET' (no) but some others said 'DA' (yes) so I got on. I just sat down when he turned towards me "Money, money, dollar, dollar! Bus nyet, taxi, taxi". Of course this was an instant proof of my conspiracy theory. Taxi is indeed cheep enough but as they are not registered they are not fully safe. Once I had a freight when a guy just drove past my destination and turned off the main road to a little dirt road with high fences and nobody around. It turned out to be an honest mistake but made me more aware of the possible danger that is so easy to dismiss in a foreign country. Now I only use taxi to destinations I know the exact way to.

Yesterday we borrowed Tristan's colleague's driver and went up to Shymbulak where the ski fields are. On most parts of the road there is a wall and there are paintings on them. Last autumn we saw them being painted. It wasn't possible to stop with the car so I have no photo of the ready pictures but I'll put on one from when they were being painted. It was really great up there. Luca and Vern really enjoyed playing in the snow. On the way back we asked Sergei (apparantly it's pronounced SirGAY, the stress is on the second syllable) to stop so I could cut some brunches for the vase for Easter decoration. I was looking around but could not find the one I was looking for. Sergei asked if I'm looking for 'verba'. I said yes, as I heard from Olga that that's the name of those brunches traditional here just like in Europe for Easter decoration. We went on cutting then returned to the car. Sergei was not there and a few minutes later he came running from somewhere with a bunch of the thing I was looking for. He was very proud of himself and I was very happy that I will have it for the Easter table after so many years not having it in NZ.