Varzob Picnic

Last weekend, instead of going hiking with the usual big group of expats and Goulya, the organizer, Diana and I decided to leave the hustle and bustle of Dushanbe by ourselves and head to a nearby village to find a picnic spot in the mountains around it. Tangems to Varzob, 15km north of Dushanbe in the valley of the same name, cost just 50 cents and we jumped on one of these. We got off just before reaching Varzob, at a bridge across the river to a small village. We began to explore up the hill behind the village, not knowing where the path would take us.

It turned out to turn back around and skirt the upper edge of the village we'd just left, and instead of finding a perfect grassy spot we found several cows and lots of poop. After trying another little valley and being turned back by steep rock waterfalls, we gave up and headed back down into the village, but on a different path than the one we'd come up. As we walked the path down between houses we found ourselves descending through people's yards!

An elderly woman looked at us a little less shocked than I expected (since a guy with a Red Sox cap and a girl in an UnderArmor sweatshirt just popped into her yard) and invited us in to her house for tea. We were still in the mood for some more walking, however, and told her that we were headed back to Dushanbe for a wedding, so we couldn't stay. Thankfully, hospitality here is not as warm as in rural Armenia, where she would have taken my arm with a vise-like grip and told me that one cup of tea would not slow us down.

We made our way down through the village and all the way back to the river, where there was a gated-off children's summer camp. We asked a guy with a soldering iron standing near the gate if we could come in, and he said sure, not seeming to mind too much. This is one of the nice differences between America and the former Soviet Union: the camp used to belong to everybody, so anybody could use it. In the States we would have had to sneak in or consider ourselves lucky to be let in and use 'private' property (or worse, pay a 'user-fee' for something we'd already paid for with taxes).

Down by the river there was nobody around, and we sat on a small wooden platform and finally had our picnic. A cow and some sheep wandered around the premises, munching on grass. The grounds were so quiet and peaceful, with the faint sound of the river coming up over the wall that separated us from it--in other words, a nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon :)

A summer house, and a cow grazing on the slope above the town. We thought about trying to go up there for our picnic, but took a path to the opposite hill instead.

On the way back out of the village, we passed this pomegranate tree, which Diana stood under, waiting for one to fall. Unfortunately we ended up buying some from the market when we got back to Dushanbe. This tree gets an 'F' for effort!

This is the shot I just barely missed--a split second earlier and the little girl's face would have been in the sunlight, and this could have been a decent photo. Oh, well, maybe next time.

These kids were just horsing around in the streets.

Looking upriver, away from Dushanbe, with summer dachas of wealthy Dushanbe-ites on the left bank.

We don't know what the tower/monument is for. Varzob town is just behind me.

A little boy looks out of the house gate in Varzob town.

Dushanbe Life

Back in Dushanbe, this is the northern bus station. The vehicles in the front are tangems ('tang-gem' with the second 'g' pronounced hard). We take these things all over town. They fit six people, and don't overcrowd like marshrutneys. The fare in town is about 20 cents. Many drivers are young men, and within that group probably the ones that insurance companies in the States refuse to cover. In other words, they drive 'aggressively'.

I was stuck in a traffic jam in a tangem one day, and the driver decided to pull up onto the sidewalk, honking for people to get out of his way. We drove on the sidewalk for several hundred meters, but that didn't get us past the traffic, so we turned into a mess of buildings and drove between them for some time on something that can only be called a path, passing underneath hanging clothes and hitting dangling trousers, crossing a footbridge over a small drainage canal, eventually coming back out onto pavement, but not before surprising two guys who obviously didn't expect to see a vehicle coming up behind them on the sidewalk. I thoroughly enjoyed this diversion, and was happy to reach the city center much faster. Those who have had the good fortune to be my passengers might be nodding their heads in understanding.

Inside a tangem.

In the past couple of days there have been some earthquakes here. They appear to be aftershocks of a 6.4 earthquake in northern Afghanistan. As I write, there is trembling in the building, and last night there was a sudden jolt which prompted us to leave the aparment momentarily. Our building is a 'Stalin' building, however, which has walls nearly 1-meter thick and was built more sturdily than 'Brezhnev' buildings, which are quite thin and prone to things which buildings should not be prone to. Ummm, thanks Stalin?

ps I might have the Brezhnev buildings mixed up with Khrushev buildings, check the Wikipedia article if you feel like it.

Our yard.

This is a picture of our building.

The exit to the street and our beautiful trash pile on the left.

Buildings near our apartment lit up at night.

This is a picture inside a cafeteria. This kind of eatery exists all over the city and offers cheap

standardized dishes at cheap prices. This one in particular has posters, portraits and banners of Lenin all over the walls, though.

A new office building sits empty with a 'for rent' sign at the entrance. The financial crisis didn't

destroy savings here like it did in the states, but it froze up capital so construction and business

came to a halt.

Look at the woodwork above the entrance to this Havli (house). The detail may not be visible in the picture, but it was very impressive, and stood out all the more set against the drab wall and simple gate. This kind of woodwork seems to be done for a lot of houses when they remodel.

A street sign, Mirzo-Rizo.

The car of the owner of the new house across the street. There is money in Tajikistan, it's just not spread around very evenly, largely a result of the U.S.-backed policy of charging towards capitalism without paying attention to the need for regulatory bodies. Try 'Globalization and its Discontents' for more.

An exchange point. The dollar is dropping, unfortunately :(

This shop in the bazaar sells smokestacks and rain gutters. It just looked like an interesting collection of metal to me.

In the bazaar. The seat in the foreground appears to have a hole cut in it and a bucket placed beneath. I have no idea what it's supposed to be, there are normal porcelain sit-down and squat toilets in this country. Perhaps this is for the winter when one wants to avoid using an out-house???

In Shoh Mansur bazaar. Shoh means 'king', probably recognizable in its Farsi form, Shah. In Tajiki the a's often turn into o's. The cart on the right is useful for doing a lot of shopping at one time so you don't have to carry 20kgs of potatoes around on your shoulders or back. It costs 50 cents to rent while you shop. At least, this is what we pay, I'm sure the regular price is less. Sometimes men, but mostly boys, push the cart and watch your groceries while you shop. This bazaar is huge, maybe almost a football field in area. In different sections there are fruits, vegetables, electronics, household goods, clothes, construction and hardware materials--everything you could ever want (except for Gouda cheese and Red Bull, which you have to get at the supermarket).

We shop here at least once per week, to get fruits and veggies at 1/3 the price of the supermarkets, and about 1/5 the prices in the states.

Per kilo we pay:

apples $1,

pears $1.25,

carrots $.20,

grapes $.50,

sweet peppers $.75,

eggplant $.20,

cauliflower $.50,

pomegranate $1,

loaf of bread $.30-.50

just to give you an idea of how far money goes here.

In front of the bazaar.

The entrance to Shoh Mansur bazaar.

The building next to ours lit up at sunset. Not the most spectacular piece of architecture, but it was nice in the light.

Unfinished construction.

Samo

http://www.bactria.net/samo.html

Samo is a band from the Pamirs, the eastern region of Tajikistan. They were being recorded by some visiting Finnish sound technicians and needed an audience for the recording session at the Gurminj Museum, a Dushanbe museum of music and musical instruments. The setting added to the great music. The room was filled with traditional Tajik and Central Asian instruments, some of which were several hundred years old. One of the musicians explained that some of the string instruments were always crafted from Apricot or Mulberry wood. This was surprising, because there is so little forest cover here in the northeastern reaches of Persian cultural influence, and made me think about the similar importance of these two fruit-bearing trees back in Armenia, at the western end of Persian cultural influence.

Cultural note: The Pamir is a high plateau that makes up the entire eastern region of Tajikistan. It is mountainous, with the highest peaks exceeding 7000m (24,500ft). The plateau itself is about 12,000ft in elevation (3500m). It has been called a moonscape and is almost devoid of vegetation. It is a desert, and most water is from snowmelt, of which there is a constant supply from glaciers and snowfields. During the Soviet era, the region's economy was highly subsidized by Moscow, with products coming into the region via train to Dushanbe and Osh (in Kyrgystan), and from there by truck. The long border with Afghanistan gave the region strategic significance and therefore guaranteed its sponsorship.
After 1991, the civil war in Tajikistan pitted ethnic groups against one another, and the Pamiris were involved in the struggle for power, as well. Most Pamiris are Ismoili--a sect of Islam that broke off from the Shia branch in 765CE--while the overwhelming majority of Tajiks are Sunni. The Ismoili bid for power failed, there was ethnic cleansing in the capital, and until today the Pamir region receives little support from the central government.

The Ismoili spiritual leader, the Aga Khan, provides significant support to the Pamir region and people, and just last week opened an Ismoili cultural center in Dushanbe--a testament to the healing that has occurred since the civil war ended 12 years ago, or perhaps to the Aga Khan's influence in the country.

Samo's performance, therefore, was more than just a display of traditional Pamiri music, but was part of the reemergence of Pamiri culture in Dushanbe. They performed just two songs for the recording, but each was about 15 minutes long. One was very strings-heavy, the other was solely drums and voices. We were just six in the audience--the room was too small for more, but we six would suffice to make the band feel as though they were performing live, instead of for microphones alone. Oli, the sound tech, said the band had much more soul when we were there compared to when they had performed without an audience, so although we can't be heard on the recording, we are taking full credit for the extra 'oomph' factor.

Samo regularly tours Europe and has traveled to the States a few times, so you may be able to catch them in major metropolitan areas if there is a Persian/Central Asian/Traditional music festival near you. Check out the below link for more info and samples of their music!

http://www.bactria.net/samo.html

Climbing!

Yesterday I went climbing with a couple of expats. I am trying to remember the last time I went climbing outdoors. It may have been before Peace Corps, perhaps as early as 2004.

We set up topropes at this cliff, and setting up the anchors felt foreign to me. I realized that I'd forgotten how to tie some of the knots and hitches that come in handy, and was having trouble visualizing the anchor set-up (it was somewhat inconvenient, and the longest anchor I've ever seen). It was a strange feeling, because everything used to be second-nature. One of the guys I went with is an accomplished climber, and we were able to set up a safe system.

After we set up the anchors, I rappelled first, feeling the rope run through my hand while backing myself over the edge. At first I felt like I was doing everything in slow-motion, while checking and re-checking my steps in my head. It was going to take some time to get comfortable on rock again.

Everyone did a couple of climbs, and a Tajik local who lived near the cliff showed up, with his own shoes, and climbed a couple of the routes.

Here's me on the first route I tried.

Eric rapelling

This is Jumaboy, the local climber.

Ziddi Valley Hike

An hour's drive north of Dushanbe, through the Varzob valley, leads to the village of Ziddi. From there, the road continues north towards the Tajik city of Xujand and to Uzbekistan, climbing up from Ziddi to the 3500m (12,500ft) Anzob Pass over the mountains and then down into another valley.

There is a tunnel now that allows drivers to bypass the Anzob Pass, which is closed from October to May, making the trip much shorter and easier. The tunnel was finished last year, is a few miles long, and is, unfortunately, constantly flooded with water up to 1m deep. Until someone figures out how to pump water out fast enough, or keep it from leaking in, the tunnel is closed to all traffic, and drivers must cross the Anzob, a dusty, single lane path winding its way up the mountainside. Oftentimes there is not enough room for two vehicles to pass each other in opposite directions, so one must back up and let the other pass, then continue its own trip.

Two weekends ago Diana and I traveled up to Ziddi with Goulya's weekend hiking trip, along with about 50 other expats, for a nice hike up the Ziddi valley. By stopping in Ziddi, we avoided the bumpy, dusty, Anzob Pass road, and still got in some great hiking.

Diana did some hiking in Armenia, though since then she's met me--a gearhead. A gearhead is someone who is fascinated by the latest outdoor equipment and feels a proper American materialistic urge to purchase the 'coolest' gear available, but only after analyzing the technology and materials used for a product, and reading all the hype and reviews about it. Therefore, Diana had a lot of new gear to bring to Tajikistan, and this was a good hike for her to use and test some of it, before we head off into the mountains for multi-day trips. If Diana wasn't happy with her new stuff, I'd have a lot of questions to answer, and my gearhead status would plummet among REI employees and climber dirtbags everywhere.

On the road into the Ziddi valley, just after passing Ziddi town.

Looking back out of the window of the marshrutney (Russian mini-bus) towards several of the expat caravan vehicles.

The huge group at the start of the hike.

The group heads into the valley.

At the beginning of the hike, after we had just entered the narrow part of the valley.

Diana crossing one of the bridges over the river. They were very well constructed, most likely because herdsmen bring animals up the valley to graze in the summer.

Diana and I at the meadow where we all stopped for lunch. The guides bring tea, coffee and cookies with them for everyone to share (that's what you get for paying a guide--that and transportation). At this point, Diana had no complaints about gear, and had even said that the backpack was comfortable!

A shot of the valley that we had walked up. This is on the way back, as we were descending the valley.

Diana and Manijeh (another Fulbrighter) coming down the valley.

Diana and Manijeh. Manijeh is teaching an economics class at one of the local universities. In the winter she'll head back to her home near Albany, NY. Look at that smile on Diana's face--the backpack is obviously quite comfortable, no?

Diana near the exit of the valley, at the end of the hike. All of the gear comparisons that took so long in the States paid off, as everything worked out great on the hike! (Phew!) My pride intact, we headed back to Dushanbe relaxed from a day in nature.

The fact that we met a lot of other expats on this hike also made it fun. Several of Diana's students from the international school came along with their parents. Many of them have been diplomats or NGO workers in different countries, and some of them had been in Armenia or Georgia, so we had some common experiences to relate. Most importantly, I got quite a response from my Red Sox cap, demonstrating yet again that opposition to the Evil Empire exists even in the farthest reaches of the globe!