Historic Khujand

We took a trip to the north of Tajikistan for the first part of last week, to the city of Khujand. Dan and his colleague were going for work, and it seemed like a good (who knows, maybe already the last?) chance to tag along under such circumstances (hotel room paid for, ground transportation already planned and covered, etc.) and see something new.

So Anya and I got up early on Monday morning and went to the domestic terminal with the guys, sat in the chilly waiting hall, let ourselves be bussed out to the plane -- a frighteningly ancient (1970s vintage?) prop plane, an An-24 I guess. But the flight took only 50 minutes, so we didn't have too long to sit there and wonder how it was that this plane was flying so successfully.

The trip as a whole was a lot of fun, but it does make me marvel at the difference between traveling with a pre-schooler and either traveling alone or with someone older than about 8. It's just funny how slow you move, how much less you do each day (especially when a handful of prime hours are spent inside for napping!), but also what a different perspective you get on everything you see and experience on a trip where your main companion is 3.

As we've done in other provincial cities in the former Soviet Union, we stayed in the hotel's luxury suite -- not exactly the Four Seasons, but not too shabby nonetheless. Two rooms, one of which had a crazy contemporary sofa set with accessory pillows -- 1 round, 1 star-shaped -- that entertained Anya half of the time we were there. About a 100-degree curve of plate glass windows in the corner of the room, covered with curtains that entertained Anya for the other half of the time we were there. A jacuzzi tub that leaked and didn't have the water pressure to fill it in our lifetime. (Similar to another provincial hotel experience in Khabarovsk, Russia.) No honor bar, but a plates of dried apricots and a plate of pistachios left in the fridge (undoubtedly by another guest, but who's to say, really?). A big screen plasma TV that got Russian music videos and BBC World. What more could you really want?

The first day was cloudy but no precipitation. We checked in after our midmorning arrival and headed in our separate directions: Dan and colleague to work meetings, Anya and I to explore the town. Hotel Vatan was located really centrally, just a 5 minute walk to Khujandi Theater and the Sugd regional history museum. We used the clear weather to explore outside, since we'd heard the next 2 days would bring rain and/or snow. We forced ourselves to stop after a snack of several "healthy cookies" and get outside, walking past the theater and north along the "alley" park leading up to the Syr Darya river. Stopped at a park bench to have a mandarin orange and pick up some leaves. Strolled up to the river while singing several verses of "Old MacDonald Had a Farm."

Turned to admire the defunct Leninobod hotel building and what is billed as the largest Lenin statue in Central Asia (from afar). Turned along the river and up Lenin Boulevard to look for a cafe for lunch. Found a cafe in the Youth Palace (Dvorets molodezhi or Qasri javonon) where we had noodle soup, a breaded cutlet, and green tea. Got along famously with the friendly waitress, who addressed us in Russian but with the funny addition of a markedly northern Tajik question suffix tacked onto her sentences. This was also the lunch where Anya learned to love green tea out of Central Asian piyola teacups (the ones that are just like little bowls, without handles).

Then headed back to the hotel for a little bit of play and a nap!

And essentially that is where the sightseeing ends on any particular day, since Anya generally sleeps from 2-4:30, and by that time the sun is going down already. We went out for dinner with a friend from Dushanbe who was also in town and, as they say in the Madeline book, "that's all there is, there isn't any more."

On Day 2 we were planning to go with Dan and colleague an hour's drive away to the nearby city of Istaravshan, another city with over two thousand years of history behind it and reportedly a really interesting place to see, but since it was raining and we move so slow (and it wasn't clear how we'd get back midday for the nap), we decided to take it easy and remain in Khujand proper.

The highlight of the day was the regional history museum. This is a prime example of what I mean by the amazingly different perspective you get when your traveling companion is a 3-year-old. Anya's favorite part was the section where the floor was made of plexiglass and in the 3 or 4 inch space beneath it was basically a model of an archeological dig: sand and shards of pottery, pieces of wooden beams, gold coins, metal vessels and old shoes, etc. We spent a long time there trying to guess what the various artifacts were. So much time that I couldn't drag her away to look at anything else and finally got bored of it myself. So with some difficulty I bundled us out the door and across the square to another cafe for some homemade pelmeni (tushbera in Tajik; basically meat-filled dumplings), more green tea, and the very tasty Khujandi kulcha (small round flatbread bread loaves made with a touch more oil than regular Tajik naan).

Day 3 it did snow -- wet and sloppy. After much cajoling I talked Anya into going out of the hotel for a shopping trip to find the teapot that she claimed Bear needed to have for a birthday present. We stopped in all the toy stores between Hotel Vatan and the main market square of the city, admiring all the fun things on offer.

It seemed to me like there was more mid-level consumer-oriented commerce in Khujand, and these stores were a good example. I guess we don't spend a lot of time seeking this stuff out in Dushanbe, when we're not on vacation, but it still seems to me like in Dushanbe you either have bazaar-based commerce and items that are pretty cheaply made and sold, or you have super-fancy storefronts where you wonder who on earth really shops there. In Khujand I saw a lot more middle-of-the-road shops (and even well made commercial signs all over the place, very consumer-oriented) that seemed to hold things that people really want and can afford to buy.

We had a lot of fun looking at a flock of birds in the bazaar square and then tramped around the inside of the bazaar for a bit, me trying to surreptitiously buy a small collection of trinkets to serve as the small gifts in a makeshift Advent calendar once we got home. Along the way we finally found the child's umbrella that Anya has actually been suggesting that we buy her for over a month now -- the first thing she has so specifically asked for in her life -- and the plastic tea set for Bear. Then we hopped in a taxi and made it back to one of the more famous restaurants in town (Zaituna) in time to share Khujandi rice plov (raisins and dried currants seemed to me to be the difference in the north) and more green tea with Dan and his colleague.

A nap and some packing later and we were on the road to the airport. By the time we got through check-in it was driving snow outside, and I was somewhat concerned about the flight, despite the fact that we could see from the airport waiting hall that we would be flying in a newer and more substantial Boeing this time. But I guess they make this flight several times a day and often in snow, so it actually turned out very smoothly, thanks to Tajik Air's pilot. Made it back home to Dushanbe in time for a book and bedtime!

Surviving the Crisis, Tajik Style

From a funny advertising leaflet that was passed to me as I exited the car and went around to get Anya out of her carseat just outside of sadik. (You have to understand that I have never before seen this type of advertising in Dushanbe, so that in itself already made it interesting.)

“Hooray!!! It’s finally happened!! At last, the new stock has arrived!

“Central Asia Trading”

in the form of

“The Korean Store!”

is rushing to help the irresistibly finer half of humanity, i.e. the captivatingly beautiful women of Tajikistan, survive this pervasive Economic Crisis!!!

How??!

In the first place and Especially for the ladies, we are offering a wide assortment of items from South Korea!!!

This is just what you need to live beautifully, and not just to survive but rather to CONQUER this crisis of the economy!

New arrivals:

shoes jackets dresses blouses suits suit-jackets skirts shirts
slippers fabric bags socks tops hats rings

And something else as well…

[on the flyer's other side]

Ladies bags, little bags, and little baggies:

[small images of bags are arrayed on the page with descriptive titles and sample prices inside, in the vein of a bunch of bag-shaped thought bubbles]

The “Little Red Riding-Hood” -- 35 som.

The “I love to rob BANKS!” [no price]

“Unforgettable” 40 som.

The “When is vacation coming?” model -- 35 som.

The “I take everything with me wherever I go” – 40 som.

“Village Mood” [no price]

“Dushanbe is my village!” -- 40 som.

“I love the sea” -- 40 som.

The “Let’s go on a picnic!” -- 40 som.

“Sister-suitcase” [no price]

“Maybe…” -- 20 som.

“Nothing’s better” -- 30 som.

“The ABYSS!” -- 40 som.

“Immensity” -- 40 som.

The “Bolshevik” [no price]

The “Excuse me!” -- 40 som.

“The city in the country!” -- 35 som.

The “I’m from the village!” model -- 30 som.

“Ladies’ fancy” -- 30 som.

“A girl’s dream” -- 20 som.

The best part of this to me is the fact that not one, not two, but several of these models proudly proclaim the owner’s origin in the sticks, which is actually very appropriate for the bulk of Dushanbe’s residents. (Or at least I have that impression, given where we live, in a northern neighborhood up Rudaki Prospect, and given where I was when I was handed the flyer, just down the hill from the very village-like section of town called Sari Asiyo (which I think means “the start of Asia,” but I could be wrong about that). It is true that I am constantly reminded when I leave those areas and especially when I travel out Somoni into some of the more recently built Soviet areas that not everyone looks as fresh-from-the-village as many of the people in our neighborhood.)

Although it included a rather detailed schematic map on that second side, nevertheless I have no idea where the Korean Store is located, since none of the landmarks on the map (including “Mosque”) were familiar to me. (Sure, “Sweets of the East” I know, but which of the many branches scattered around town are they talking about?)

So I guess I’ll have to settle for enjoying their ad campaign, rather than digging into the new stock and seeing whether anything at the Korean store strikes my “lady’s fancy.”

I'll Have What She Had...?

It's already been a while since I went and got my first haircut in Dushanbe, but I took a second look at the business card that was handed to me when I got up out of the styling chair, and I decided there was probably a story there.

I guess I've been up to my usual hair thing here (I started to write "my usual former Soviet Union hair thing," but I guess I tend to do this in the US, too): I waited months and months to get it cut, putting it off, first because it didn't really need to be cut, I mean it wasn't an emergency or anything, and besides I didn't know where to go... Then we entered into emergency territory, or at least terrible-split-ends-and-tangling territory, but I still didn't really budge. Then I went to the US in November (mind you, my hair was previously cut I think at some point in early spring in Vladivostok?) and still didn't cut it.

I can hear you questioning my judgment on that one, just like Dan was a little surprised that I didn't get a cut in the States. You see, I just couldn't justify spending the money in the US, since I know that a haircut in Tajikistan, probably contrary to popular belief, will be just as good and yet much cheaper. I'm sure this is even true if you go to a fancy downtown salon, such as they exist here in Dushanbe (and I've heard they do exist -- one of Dan's female colleagues went recently for a "facial" at one such salon and I almost started laughing in spite of myself at the incongruity of it all), although your price break off of Western rates is going to be smaller at a place like that.

So I did my usual thing: I let myself get to the point of desperation and then went to the closest place I ran across where it didn't look like the stylist would totally butcher my hair. This time, random selection led me to "Anisabonu," a place identified by a sandwich-board perched outside one of the slightly rundown apartment buildings on the main boulevard in town, Rudaki (often touted as "the very first multistoried [meaning, more than about 3 floors] apartment buildings in Dushanbe!").

I went in the apartment building entrance (ratty as any in this part of the former socialist world), and only had to poke my head around a couple of seconds before it became clear that my "salon" (using the word loosely) was located in what must have been a converted apartment in the rear of the first, slightly elevated, floor of the building.

I know, it already sounds like I'm breaking my rule, but this is the thing with the former Soviet Union -- this kind of place actually is not as bad as it sounds. My theory of explanation goes like this: women in all areas of the FSU care so much more than average American women about what they look like and about formal beauty techniques and products than most of us do that hair stylists actually have to know what they are doing here, and are usually really well trained. Thus, even what looks like a ratty little salon is actually going to be a fine place to get your hair cut on a whim. And for cheap. So far this theory hasn't let me down (although if you extrapolate from my most recent wait to cut my hair, you will infer correctly that the sample size in my extended experiment is inherently abbreviated), not even on this most recent outing.

The thing that was funny about this was that the friendly stylist enthusiastically gave me her card, and since I liked the cut and her nice yet not-too-talkative demeanor I really only slightly less enthusiastically took it. I then of course proceeded to stuff it into my wallet, and only recently did I take a better look at it. Lest you get the wrong idea, my stylist looked nothing like the young lady pictured here, and neither did any of the rest of the clientele. And I'm not quite sure what Zalina is trying to communicate to her customer base with this card. Looking at it myself I think will actually prove a disincentive to return to her, as my memory of the unremarkable interior of the salon fades and all I have to jog my memory is this:

Baba Yaga (Bzzz Bzzz)

I was reminded a few days ago that, while it is clear from my recent Anya language update that Baba Yaga is beauty-challenged in the nasal department, not everyone may know who she is. As usual, Wikipedia offers a not-too-shabby overview of the classic Slavic fairy-tale witch character. (Apparently Georgii Milliar, in the picture here, was the actor who played Baba Yaga in several Soviet films from the 1930s to the '60s, and sort of seems like the quintessential B. Y. to those who've seen his performances. He's profiled in Russian in the link.)

But Baba Yaga also typically plays a central role Soviet/post-Soviet kiddie New Year's celebrations like the ones we've been taking part in.

For some reason the article I referred to in last year's rundown of this holiday unfortunately has disappeared (together with the source, Moskovskie novosti). But if you look at the many Russian party scripts posted online for ensuring a fun New Year's holiday, my memory of that description is confirmed: Baba Yaga actually shows up in these rote celebrations as more of a laughable, bothersome hooligan character than a truly scary witch. She plays the humorous foil to good ol' Grandfather Frost/Dedushka Moroz and his sidekick Snegurochka, threatening to break up the party because she's been left off the invitation list. The MC (Russian events always need to have an MC...) tries to talk her out of ruining it, high jinks ensue. But ultimately the kids win out with Ded Moroz and Snegurochka's help, and the forces of good reassuringly overcome what was surely in the Communist era meant to be a mildly anti-Soviet example in Baba Yaga.

---

I threw these notes up last week and then, wouldn't you know it, we had the chance for yet another of these staged New Year's gatherings, and my understanding of Baba Yaga's role was borne out and then some!

On Wednesday, Anya's sadik had a field trip to the Dushanbe "Lukhtak" Puppet Theater. I had asked ahead of time what the performance was slated to be, but all the teachers could tell me was it would be in Russian. What they weren't able to predict was that it wouldn't really contain any puppets. (The closest we came to real puppets was the small crow character who outs Baba Yaga after she puts a spell on Ded Moroz in her attempt to spoil the kiddies' fun. Otherwise, all were live actors.)

The show was not so much a play as an extended version of the yolochka party -- unfortunately not the most captivating format for the 2-year-old set when seated in the audience instead of watching more free-form in the lobby. The performance did include some chuckles for the adults, though, beginning with the fact that our "host," the little girl Mashenka, got a phone call a few minutes into the proceedings (when she came on stage with a cellphone on a lanyard around her neck, I first thought this was an indication of a low level of professionalism and concentration on the part of the Lukhtak company, but it soon became obvious that it was an intentional prop). Her half of the conversation allowed us to surmise that it was Snegurochka calling to let her know that Ded Moroz was on his way. Mashenka was only slightly disappointed when Sneggie told her she wasn't going to make the party because she had to greet some guests from Paris.

In another beat or two our attention was drawn to a little alcove at stage left, where Baba Yaga was just waking up, and generating giggles from the older kids as she stretched her limbs, stiffly attempted her morning "zaryadka" (exercises), and admired herself in the mirror as she got dressed for an aerial tour of her woodland fiefdom. (Curiously, Tajik ideas about how a humorous witch ought to dress have a suspicious amount in common with the way crunchy Western NGO-types tend to dress on the weekends, right down to the brightly colored fleece zip-up vest....) At this point, Anya decided she was scared of B. Y. and started crying and protesting, so we had to take a break.

But the funniest part of the "play" for me was when Baba Yaga got her present from Ded Moroz (she'd been convinced to reverse her spell on Ded M., so he'd made his grand entrance, echo-laden mic effects and all): a yellow and black striped floppy hat, whose corporate origins the 4-year-olds next to us immediately identified with enthusiastic shouts of "Beeline!"

Bzzz

When you arrive into Dushanbe airport, one of the first things you see, and by far the brightest color you see in at least the first thirty minutes after landing, is the yellow and black ad for the Russian "Beeline" mobile telephone company. I find that kind of amusing.

Beeline was the company whose shameless use of product placement throughout the 2007 sequel to the classic Russian New Year's movie "The Irony of Fate" went above and beyond anything I've seen in American movies. (If you look carefully at the movie poster here you can see the prominently displayed yellow and black Christmas tree ball. None of the other very obvious products placed in the movie, including Toyota and Calve mayonnaise, got even close to that kind of a boost.)

You do have to admit, Beeline's logo does have a great visual element in those yellow and black stripes, which are easily stretched and pulled to fit new images.

In Tajikistan, from what I can see, they must have just recently begun to enter (muscle their way into?) the market. They also must have some comfy relationship with the government to allow their big "welcome to Tajikistan" ad to greet you as you wait for the passport control officials to do their job. Oh, and although on our first arrival passport control had run out of immigration forms, on my second arrival they had a fresh batch. With guess-whose ad printed on the reverse side? You got it: Beeline. And in the center of town, their billboards and ads stand out pretty well -- especially when you consider that probably about 50% of billboards in Dushanbe actually don't carry ads at all, but sayings from the government and usually quotes attributed to President Rahmon.

I find their attempts to use Central Asian imagery in their ads a little clever -- I'm not sure what Tajiks think of it. I need to take some pictures of the print ads I've seen around town. Online I couldn't find the most interesting attempts to incorporate local visuals into their material.

Obviously they can fit the yellow and black into a classic Russian image, too, like the nesting dolls. Although I think it's possible that they may only feel the need here in Central Asia. On Beeline.ru you just see lots of modern Europeans smiling and living the good life with the ease of communication that Beeline apparently affords. I don't see any matryoshki there.

Anyway, the Central Asian teabowls (piala) below will have to serve as my best example here, until I can get out there with a camera.