Tag tashkent

Before leaving Tashkent I spent several hours pouring over countless maps of Kazakhstan and Russia, trying to work out the best route to Mongolia. Since we rested a week in Tashkent, we had the added benefit of being able to read other team’s reports online, and the reports on road conditions in Kazakhstan were not favorable. One report in particular, from a team called Yak to the Future, told us that the roads straight North-East from Uzbekistan were so bad that it was actually easier and better for the car to just drive off-road. With some 1,500k to cover in Kazakhstan, our little Saxo would not be able to handle the abuse. Already, the car’s frame was cracking, the back tires rubbed noisily on the wheel wells, and the gear linkage popped out freely over big bumps. Our car simply carried too much weight over imperfect roads. We couldn’t take that risk. So, I continued to look at maps.

Eventually an alternative plan emerged. I decided to take our team some 700k out of the way on good roads, which would save the car and only cost us the additional gas money. Since fuel in Kazakhstan is relatively cheap, it was a good trade off. We would avoid Almaty and head towards Astana, cutting east before the city and bearing south-east and then north to Russia. It was a hell of a long way out of the way, but after hours of online research about the road conditions, I discovered that in 2007 the road I had chosen was refinished, making it a much, much smarter bet than the ancient panel-style cement roads that cut straight towards Russia.

We set off on our new route on the morning of the 23rd, with plans to make the Mongolian border in less than 5 days, with over 2,000k to travel across rough terrain with three border crossings. We were feeling optimistic. The road we chose turned out to be a good decision. We were essentially on highway for three days, with only intermittent dinosaur-sized pot holes. The worn ridges from semis on the roads remained, so that you were driving on the crest of two cement waves for the duration of Kazakhstan.

We easily crossed into Russia after a few days of non-stop driving, camping at night, and eating limited camp food at night. It was more work than play to cover that kind of distance. The Russian border, though we had heard it would be difficult and the guards had already acquired a reputation for demanding bribes, turned out to be a breeze for us. The only snag was that with his beard, the guards did not think Mike was the same boy from his passport pictures. After several minutes of laughing with them and threatening to shave on the spot, they let us pass. We looked at the map and made a snap decision. It was still early and we had made it through the border, we stopped in the first town to eat and take a short break, refill on groceries and water, and hit the road. We ran into another team that was aiming for the Mongolian border some 1000k away by nightfall.

The Mongolian border closes on weekends. We suddenly realized it was Thursday. If we drove until we arrived at the border we might, just might, make it through before closing time on Friday. We revved up the 1.1 liter engine and drove through the night, arriving at the Russian border at 4am. A team from Belfast was in front of us in line, we slept in the car for a few hours and at ten am we again greeted Russian border guards, but this would be the last time we’d see Russians in a long while, so we endeavored to enjoy the experience.

It is an amazing thing to meet up with one’s parents in the middle of nowhere. We met my folks in Tashkent for a week of R&R at little more than the half-way point of the Mongol Rally. In previous years of traveling we’ve met them in several other odd places around the world and always we’ve had great adventures and a lot of fun. This time, in Tashkent, we stayed at a lovely place with an indoor pool, dart board, ping-pong table and in-house cinema. My folks provided copious amounts of beer and booze , as well as amazing Western food, and we provided a horrifyingly bad aroma from our dirty clothing and dusty car.

We started off by washing everything, the car included and scrubbing our skin. We all thought we had tans but it turned out that after a few showers the darker skin went down the drain, must have been dirt so ingrained into our pores it became part of us. That first night we stayed up until 3am talking, playing games and catching up. My sister made an amazing Mexican-inspired meal, and the three of us disgusted everyone by digging into the food like starving animals.

We were wined and dined in real style with American food and snacks, something we hadn’t seen since we left the States more than two months ago. We even had Doritos and Bill and Mike split a box of Mac & Cheese. My folks even went through the trouble of locating Captain Morgan and Jack Daniels in the middle of Ramadan in Uzbekistan to have it ready for our arrival. My sister made a chocolate cake that mysteriously disappeared when she left it alone in the kitchen.

Later in the week, my dad hired a local man to make plov, a national dish of rice, carrots, lamb and spices, and kebabs of lamb and chicken in local spices. They arrived, set up a wood fire and cooked everything in the yard over the course of a few short hours. We sat outside on the traditional Uzbek tables (it looks like a wooden bed with a small coffee table in the middle, you sit crossed legged under it to eat) and watched the sun go down as we ate. Later, we had a dart tournament (Dad won, naturally) and tried out the in-house cinema. I jumped in the indoor pool daily. It had been so hot and so muggy the last several days that any chance to feel cool and clean was a welcomed treat.

It was extremely difficult to leave after only a week seeing my family. We had an amazing time going to bazaars in Tashkent, out to dinner and drinks, and just spending time playing games and talking. Our final night arrived and my parents took us to the best steak joint this side of New York. City Grill, in Tashkent, is a place I’ve raved about before, but this time was even better. My filet mignon was perfectly cooked, and the side dishes we so good that it was a shame to actually eat them. We had a great time, and the taste of that steak kept us happy for several days afterward, just thinking about it.

They drove with us to the Kazakh border and watched as we crossed into no-man’s land between Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan. It was hard to say goodbye, as it always is, but we had an unbelievable week of stress-free relaxation and great food and drink that literally was an oasis in the middle of our Mongol Rally journey.

Medrassa bazaar

We were fortunate enough to spend seven full days in Tashkent, the capital of Uzbekistan, staying at the Grand Orzu hotel near the center of activity. Within walking distance to the train station as well as the metro, we were in the prime location to experience the city. While we saw and experienced many things in and around Tashkent, here are the highlights:

The regional museum. Shaped like a giant crown, this museum located on the fringes of Amir Timur park is well worth a visit. After buying your ticket (3,000 CYM) head up the stairs into the main room for a fantastic view of a three story mural, a tiled ceiling and giant chandelier and a Koran from 7^th (Islamic) century. From here you can climb two more floors of relics from around the country, maps, pictures, gifts from foreign dignitaries and models of all of Uzbekistan’s major buildings. After the museum, check out the giant statue of Amir Timur on horseback. Some time ago someone stole his horses’ family jewels, check this out.

Seattle Peace Park. Here you can go to the tiny zoo (rabbits, turtles and a misplaced ostrich) or ride bumper cars, shoot counter-strike guns full of tennis balls or ride a row boat. Don’t skip it because it sounds cheesy, that’s all the more reason to go!

Broadway. This used to be a lively and active street until the president visited and disliked what he saw. Now it is calmer, but in the afternoon heat stroll down to see the artists put their finest canvas on display.

Medrassa bazaar.

A converted former medrassa now houses craftsmen as they work their trades in woodwork, tile work, silks and especially tiny jewelry boxes hand painted in gold and bright Central Asian colors and designs.

Old Town. We walked around the bazaar and then back behind the main selling area before coming to a building resembling a small leaning tower of Pisa. Behind the bazaar we met two boys throwing bits of carcass into the back of a van.

Nipon park. This Japanese park near the Inter Continental hotel looked amazing, but it was closed when we showed up so we simply played with some nearby mallards before jumping the subway. Looks like a classy place, but its 4,000 CYM to get in.

Metro. The Tashkent metro is well known because each station is different and it was original designed as a series of conveniently placed bomb shelters. While the place is swarming with guards and we hear photography is forbidden, it was still fun to ride around (we used it to tour the city on two separate occasions) and easy to use.

Having lived in Shanghai for over a year, I thought I had experienced a truly versatile and adept cuisine culture. While Shanghai has a bit more to offer in the way of bulk variety, Tashkent is a city seething with diverse foods at affordable prices that far exceed international expectations. If you are ever so lucky as to find yourself in Tashkent, here are some of the wonderful restaurants we were introduced to by an expat who had spent considerable time living in the city and knew all the best places to dine.

Bistro

: This tasty pizzeria is nestled away from the street and houses an outdoor courtyard as well as a tented area. The kitchen consists of a large pizza oven and a counter where three young men help each other compile your pizza. Pizzas are about 11,000 CYM. They also do pasta very well, and don’t leave without trying the bread sticks.

Omar Kayane: This Lebanese/Mexican restaurant sports local decor, chicanas, hookahs and a diverse menu of specialties. Named after a famous poet, the place has all the spice and flare of a hopeless romantic. Formerly a Mexican restaurant, the new owners kept several favorites on their menu. Try the Potato skins. From the Lebanese section, the kebabs are highly praised, and the fatush, hummus and spinach wraps were amazing.

Caravan: Though a bit expensive, the decorations make this place a must-see. They have life shows some nights and late in the evening the interior dining area becomes a lively beer hall.

Chelsea Arms: This may be the single most overpriced pub on the planet. They deceptively charge in Euros, making each half liter of brew about ten-twelve dollars. Bring Prozac or an inhaler for when your bill arrives. If you have free cash to throw away, however, the interior is worth visiting for its authentic British feel, and it’s a marvel that someone managed to transport the items in the bar to the middle of Uzbekistan.

El Dolphin (from the guide book)This place was highly recommended by the Lonely Planet, and perhaps because of this the prices were quite high for what was delivered. However, the food was very good, we had the hummus, falafel, chicken , and a margarita pizza for about 40 USD. The décor is startlingly bad, but if you can force yourself to have a bit of faith you may be surprised.

City Grill:

At this hard-to-find grill we had the best meal I’ve ever had in a restaurant abroad. The grilled vegetables are fantastic, as is the filet-minion, T-bone, bone steak, ravioli, bread sticks and soup. As you can tell from the items we’ve sampled, we went more than once. The prices are surprisingly spot-on, and it’s a great place to sojourn. Try everything.

The Czech pub: This place had a diverse menu of Czech foods as well as an on-site brewery that produced sharp and interesting ales, pilsners and heffeweissens. Order the pickled cucumbers, the soups, bread basket and a few beers. Moderately priced with great décor, friendly staff and a endless menu options.

Soviet Chair Lift

We left mid morning for the lake, in Tashkent province, about an hour and a half north-east of the capital. The drive was peaceful and from the SUV we watched women sell their morning’s fruit harvest as old men and boys continued harvesting behind them in the fields. We passed through several small towns with large cathedrals, mosques and an abundance of butcher shops (comically called a ‘go-shit’ in Russian).

The protected area includes a lake at the center surrounded by rolling green hills with mountains in the distance. The lake was created when the river, which originates in Kyrgyzstan, was dammed. Thousands of people live in the area selling their harvests or living off the small tourism industry.

On the winding roads through the park we were occasionally surprised as children (average age of about eight) would jump out of the tall grass surrounding the road to wave purple and yellow bouquets of wild flowers at the car. At several large bends in the road women had congregated to sell their goods, and it was at once such bend that we found a young businesswomen selling burnt-sugar peanuts. These were easily the best snack I’ve ever had and she was the best bargainer I’ve ever encountered.

We stopped the car often to jump out and admire the view, which changed so drastically with ever turn in the road that it was almost like a new drive began every few minutes. Finally, after my eyes were so overloaded with beauty and newness that they felt strained, we pulled off the road to an old Soviet-era chairlift that went up the side of a large hill and into the snowy mountains. It was ill maintained but functional, and as we watched for several minutes not one car detached itself and fell to the jagged rocks below.

We went through the cattle wire to the ticket booth and bought a ticket each for about 2USD round trip. The chair lift was set up as a two-seater deal where it was obvious that each seat on the contraption had been replaced or reattached at some point or another. My chair set, for example, had one blue chair with no arm rest and one yellow one with rust discoloration. Under the chair, before one did a quick prayer and sat in the lift, there was painted two sets of footprints, the one on the inside larger than that of the outside. I sat on the outside, as I’m smaller, and when I sat down the chair swung in towards oncoming traffic- aka, those who had made it up and were now death-gripping their chairs on the way down. As the chair lifted off (not so gracefully, I might add) the chair attendant gave a surprised but jolly wave and cheer. The lift took around ten minutes from bottom to top, and as I am writing this I obviously lived through the adventure. At the top a large burley man who smelled of beer and lamb pulled me from the chair so forcefully my feet didn’t touch the ground until he let go well out of striking range of the pendulum-like chair. The attendant and his friend/co-worker/man drinking in the corner laughed at each other when they saw our petrified smiles.

The summit was beautiful and well worth the harrowing ride. Within seconds of summiting it began to snow and I donned my fleece and scarf. Previous pilgrims who had survived the Soviet chair lift had ripped pieces of fabric from their shirts and, with a prayer of thanks, tied the fabric to the fence at the summit. I felt compelled to do likewise but decided not to tempt fate- I’d tie on a thank-you at the base once I’d made it safely back down. Mama didn’t raise no fool!

After a tour of the summit we descended (much less terrifying) and drove down the hill a ways. From the summit we had seen a plane which, from our vantage point, looked to have crashed nearby. We drove down a bumpy dirt road to find the plane, which turned out to be an Aeroflot (I’ve always felt they were an unsafe fleet) plane surrounded by weeds and trees but guarded by a house and warehouse nearby. I still have no idea what the plane was there for, or, more puzzlingly, how it arrived in that position. It sure did not land there, and it could not have driven down the bumpy road.

We then drove to the lake where we walked down and stuck a toe or finger each into the icy water. We discovered a floating rock, which I stabbed with my knife to discover was actually a floating piece of filthy bread. We drove around the lake and stopped again at a high point before the dam, overlooking the entire lake and beyond. We climbed up into the rocks and gazed out at the truly beautiful green hills, jagged mountains and herds of goats, cheep, donkey and cows.

Driving now above the dam we stopped at a small café called the Golden Deer in Russian. We parked and sat in a local-style booth. No sooner had we sat down than every man, woman and child in the restaurant and outdoor café ran into the street to watch two young men drag race their cars up and down the strip of curved road where everyone had parked their cars. The boys peeled out, gained speed then slammed on the brake and e-braked as they threw the wheel into a firm 180. The crowd cheered them on while we sat in our outdoor booth wondering if they would smash into our car. This went on for half an hour. Meanwhile, we had ordered two Big Macs, which were on the menu in Cyrillic. How they heard of a Big Mac out there is beyond me. It was a double-decker hamburger with mayo. Copyright laws need not apply. This was also the site of several scenes which caused me to utter sentences that should not be said aloud, including, “That man is combing his stomach hair” and “Now he is playing with his mullet.”

Back in the car we drove around the dam (surrounded by guards) before heading back to the capital. It had been an adventurous, harrowing, peaceful and puzzling trip into the Tashkent countryside.