cycle trivialities: Squares (TAS)

Pictures: Hotel Uzbekistan, chai & plov @ work, Amir Timur and his servants, women in a car.

Time flies, even when you don't have that much to do. The last one and a half week I've spent waiting for my Iranian visa (check), waiting for the Turkmen visa (processing), resisting locals that want to be my friend to practice English ("you want to make friends with me"), having near-death experiences in taxi's, and trying not to get caught for being an unregistered foreigner. Hopefully this problem will be solved soon, 'cause it's not funny to be a clandistino.

The Turkmen visa... what a scene. I believe the first hurdle was taken this morning: queuing for three hours in front of this shiny white palace/bunker of an embassy. Between 11:00 and 13:00 guards let applicants through on the basis of a makeshift list (each one of us taking about 5 minutes of the one staffer on the inside, so 24 is the maximum) that people had been signing as early as 4 o'clock this morning... Although I was in the know about all this, I didn't manage to get to the list earlier than 10 this morning, making me number 24. It was a relief when I heard one of the gatekeepers shout: "Turyst, turyst!" around 12:55. And so I managed to apply today. Next week on Wednesday I have to go back to tell them the day I plan to enter Turkmenistan (although this information is on the form I filled out today) and then hopefully on Thursday my transit visa will be issued... At times like these Lou Rhodes' voice (Lamb) in 'Trans Fatty Acid' sounds in my head: "no one said it would be easy". The Turkmen on duty almost sent me away 'cause I didn't have the second copy of my passport with me... while there was a Xerox standing right next to him. I in fact was extremely happy that I accidentally brought one copy, but happiness like that vanishes at the blink of a Turkmen eye. Luckily he then realised that he was still the owner of a human heart, and he made the second copy himself. There's a sense of longing for borderless EU when you're hassled like this.

Anyhow, here are some impressions of life in Tashkent:

Reclama sq.:

As I had my fair share of political commercials (euphemistically put) during the last couple of years, I was kind of reluctant to register the fine examples of state image building in Kazachstan. Now I regret this for it was quite special. To give you an idea, its president - the de facto monarch as he is in power ever since independence and will choose ("democratically") his successor - runs a campaign that's called: 'Kazachstan 2030'. Many villages, especially the most desertified, dust-ridden ones, have a billboard with an image of what they will look like in 2030: green parks, mirrory office buildings, billiard cloth roads and a clear blue sky. And people seem to buy it. Until the clock ticks 2030, and they're still surrounded by the same nothingness. I guess it's no coincidence that this moment coincides with the life expectancy of the king.
Pictures: but now I'm in a new absolute monarchy (its 'papa' can be seen in the upper right hand corner of this square), with its own 'reclama' apparatus called Smile Land.

Tourist Market (near Broadway) sq.:

Pictures: autumn in Uzbekistan, the V.I. Lenin door mat, "We have forgotten the truth", and (endless) other handicrafts

Tashkent by night sq.:

Pictures: a mobile telephone credit store, view from Julien's building, a rainy tram stop, and a Chorsu Bazaar market stall.

Tashkent used to be the Soviet Union's fourth biggest city after Moscow, Leningrad and Kiev, and has somewhere between 2.1 and 2.5 million inhabitants. Still, the busy farmer's markets set aside, Tashkent doesn't feel crowded. You simply don't see that many people on the street. Other features: most main streets have three or four lanes (the road between the President's house and office is a prime example of this), most drivers drive Deawoo, and most people live in high-rise buildings.
The Deawoo Matiz is a great shock absorber by the way. Last Sunday Julien, Tristan and I witnessed a crash of a Matiz: the mashyna was total loss after hitting a bus, a tree and the tarmac, but the driver survived. Strangely enough he then tried to kill himself... After seeing the damage to the car the guy grabbed the back of his head and slammed it with great force through the only window that was unimpaired.

And there's an excellent public transport grid. The busses are modern - as opposed to the rickety old barrels that pollute most Kazakh cities - and the metro is a true work of art. Unfortunately you cannot make pictures of it, as the stations were designed to serve as bomb shelters. To give you a taste: all are clean, some have tiled patterns that remind of mausolea and mosques, others have beautiful candelabrums or standing decorative lightning. And all have police officers on guard. The latter will take you from the train if you do take pictures and interrogate you as if you are a clear and present danger to state security. You will have to show your documentation, explain what you are doing in Uzbekistan and of course delete the pictures from your camera. First hand information.

But the stations are beautiful (even the fluorescent lightning is adding to the atmosphere). Louisa, who hosted last week's Thanksgiving dinner, summarised: "If we were to be bombed, we'd still have chandeliers. Now that's class!"

Donnowhattocallit sq.: