Nukus and surroundings

When I read back my post on how I didn't make it to Nukus, who would have thought I would get another chance to go! I finally made it to the west of Uzbekistan because my colleague Dilnora convinced our boss that I should accompany her to a monitoring conference as part of my internship. I wasn't quite sure what my role and function would be, but I was content enough that I was finally able to explore Uzbekistan a little bit more. I am usually not too scared of flying but flying with a centuries old Soviet propellor plane named Ilyushin really set my nerves on edge - probably the most turbulent, hottest, and bumpiest flight of my life. 

Nukus is the capital of the Republic of Karakalpakstan, an autonomous republic which covers the western end of Uzbekistan and makes up 36% of the country. Despite its large dimensions, the ecological catastrophe of the Aral Sea and its disastrous consequences such as wind-borne salt and pesticides from the dried sea bed destroying and polluting fields and crops, has left it as one of the poorest regions in Uzbekistan. Nukus is only about an 4hour drive away from the sea bed, but the increased salinity is omnipresent due to visible salt on the roads and in the air, so that your skin feels irritated as if you've just bathed in the sea after one day of being outside. For those of you who don't know about the Aral Sea, I can highly recommend this arte documentary, where a guy travels around Karakalpakstan on a motorbike and interviews former Aral Sea fishers (fishery used to be the main source of income in the area and part of the people's culture and identity) who now find themselves unemployed and often suffering from one of the many diseases the ecological catastrophe has brought with it (e.g. respiratory illnesses such as tuberculosis, anaemia, malnutrition).

The Aral Sea in 1989 and 2008 (Picture taken from Wikipedia)

Despite the sad circumstances of the region, Karakalpakstan is a fascinating and breathtaking place on earth due to its geographical location. It mainly consists of desert, namely the Karakum desert (black desert in Karakalpak) in the south and the Kyzylkum (red desert) in the east, but it also features a nature reservation and black mountains (Karatau, and they are actually black because of the colour of its rocks) as well as white mountains. Many places are remote and seem extremely far away from civilisation. This place's isolation was also the reason for Igor Savitsky in the 1960s to install a museum showing the second biggest collection of the Russian avant garde in the world.

The Karakalpak State Museum of Art is one of Nukus's main attractions (and possibly, its only attraction) and one of the reasons why I wanted to go in the first place. Its isolated location enabled Savitsky - a Russian fascinated by the area's folk art, ancient history and Central Asian fine arts who also attended archeological and ethnographic expeditions in the area - to install a museum showing a large collection of Russian avant garde by artists which were forbidden by the Soviet regime. Remote Nukus was a safe haven for these banned pieces of art. Over the years, Savitsky acquired over 90,000 paintings and sculptures - many of them obviously can't even be exhibited. The museum is huge - almost too big - to see it all in one visit, but it records and represents a fascinating period in history... in Nukus of all places! I absolutely loved it and wish I had had more time to explore it in more detail.

As I got to Nukus, it turned out that my co-workers had forgotten to inform the conference's organiser that I would attend, so that I wasn't registered and, therefore, couldn't join all the events (Uzbekistan is very strict when you are foreigner and you need an authorization for all sorts of things). It was somewhat frustrating in the first days but then the hotel's owner announced that she would make a daytrip to the qalas because she wanted to take pictures for her new website, so she hired a professional photographer. I decided to join her to share costs and couldn't have made a better decision.

We left the hotel at 5am, not only because it got pretty hot during the day but also to get the best possible lighting conditions for the pictures. I don't want to make you feel as if you are reading a guide book on Karakalpakstan, so I will refrain from going into detail about the qalas' history, but if you are interested, this is a very good website. Just to give you a few ideas: Qalas are ancient ruins, some of which were first surveyed and partly excavated in the 1930s by archeologist Sergey Tolstov. Their purposes are manifold, including fortified refuges and garrisons, fortresses and temples built sometime between 600 BC and 200 AD. They are located in the middle of the endlessness of the barren desert and even though there isn't too much left of some of them, I found them way more impressive and authentic than any of the numerous mausoleums or medressas in Samarkand and Bukhara.  And even though you could say that about all old buildings in Europe, I found the idea striking that someone had put a particular stone or brick on a particular spot - in an area so remote and far away from everything else -  and almost 2000 years later, I am touching it in the exact same place. These places got me thinking that even though transience is omnipresent in life, life and the memory of past generations are inherent in these old murals and the landscape surrounding them. Even animals still make use of these places and make them alive, and I found myself looking into the wall's holes to watch baby birds waiting for their mothers to return to them with food. 

Please find below a selection of some of my pictures, as well as pictures taken by very talented photographer Azamat Matkarimov to give you an impression of my day of visiting the qalas, walking in the desert, snake hunting, plov eating, animal watching, getting a sunburn, being stunned by the desert's endlessness and having one of the best days of my life.

Jampik qala in the early morning hours

The Bukhara deer in the nature reservation

A yurt camp near Ayaz Qala. Yurts were portable houses/tents traditionally used by nomads in the steppes of Central Asia.

Inside the yurt: playing the dutar, a musical instrument typical for Central Asia with only two strings

A poisonous snake got into our yurt. The yurt owner caught it and put it into a bottle...with the intention to cook and eat it later.

The crew during our lunch break :)

"Just think how someone put this little stone here at this particular spot, and almost 2000 years later, I am finding it in the exact same position"

"Am I a racist?": The joys of expat life II

I was in the office with my boss and we were both concentrating on our work, as one of our colleagues (who I hadn't met before) entered the room, briefly looked at me and nodded in my direction. He started chatting to my boss in German.

"How was your business dinner last night?"
"It was alright.. many Uzbeks, and we had to pay for all of them."
"With sexy belly dancers?"
(I briefly raised my eyebrows there and looked at him perviously.)
"No..just food."
"Sometimes you do surprise me.. I don't think I would ever go to an Uzbek restaurant voluntarily."
"Yeah..it was terrible and I really didn't want to."

I stopped typing at this point and couldn't believe my ears that they would actually talk like that while somebody was listening. I looked at both of them, again, until they moved to a different conversation topic. And I sighed heavily. It was only later that I realised the funny element of the situation when our colleague came back to our room because he was looking for his keys. My boss had left at this point, so this guy asked me in English if I had seen his keys. I responded in German that I hadn't seen them. He froze, stared at me and just said "I didn't know you spoke German". Awkward much? 

The sad thing is that this is a standard senior expat conversation of which I have overheard way too many in the past weeks. This blog post is inspired by observations I have previously made at my workplace as well as by a conversation I had a few weeks ago with Heinar and Charlotte. Since then I've been thinking a lot about this, trying to form an opinion about something that I've been asking myself in a number of ways, but never as specifically as I have in the past weeks. I am obviously aware that I will only touch on a very complex topic and that it will be far from being all-inclusive, but this is a personal blog after all, so my personal expressions are the basis.

In my first blog post on the joys of expat life, I briefly mentioned the conversation I listened to by two senior expats: 

"I was drinking Glühwein with a group of 45-60 year-olds and overheard their conversations about a 19 year old Russian blondie, “tall, hot and with big tits”, who one of them would meet in a pub later on, obviously with the intention to take her home afterwards. They went on about how beautiful eastern girls were and that it was so difficult to resist. So Ulli and I joined the conversation and asked if they didn’t think that they were using these girls (who, in some cases, don’t really have any other choice, as it’s their only way to have access to money) and if they weren’t making use of their status as Westerners. One of them then started explaining to us that these women at least still knew what it meant to be a woman, namely to make men happy and do for him whatever he wants. After arguing with him for a little while, I had to leave the conversation because I was so disgusted." 

Now, I understand that these men were maybe just arseholes and sexist racists, just because it is part of their character. I have found it striking, however, how common these ideas are among some of the people I am working with right now. Don't get me wrong here - I have met the most wonderful, intelligent, respectful and interesting people here in Tashkent, simply because seeing the world and opening up to foreign cultures until it becomes a part of you changes your perspective so much. But.. I work in development at the moment. Wouldn't you think that people who are trying to improve the non-existing state of democracy in Uz, to save the remnants of the Aral Sea, to improve sexual and reproductive health and rights, are genuinely interested in making this world a better place? That they are interested in the culture that surrounds them? Obviously this is an idealistic notion of international cooperation and development, but honestly and really, WHY on earth would you go to Uzbekistan to help Uzbeks if you hate the country, Uzbek people and everything related to their culture? Don't you make life incredibly hard for yourself if you live in an environment that you despise and that you CONSTANTLY moan about, if you could have it SO SO GOOD (really?) at home? I suppose a good answer would be, because you get a shitload of money. Because you are someone. But is this really it? Can it be really only a decision you take for your career, rather than for what you are actually doing?

I started to ask myself the question, am I being racist too? Do I make generalising statements that could be perceived as racist? I met Charlotte and Heinar a while ago, and suddenly we started discussing this issue. His example of a racist behaviour on our side was the expectations we have when we go for dinner. I always call Uzbekistan the Dienstleistungsparadies (service paradise) because a lot of the time when you order at restaurants, people get your order wrong, forget about you, have you wait for 30min for a pot of chai, bring the wrong amounts of food, bring a sandwich with mayonnaise even though you told them explicitely that you want it without mayonnaise, bring 4 glasses although there are 6 people sitting at the table, etc. The list is long. So, as you go to the restaurant, you have all these expectations what they could get wrong this time and take precautions and order in a specific way to make sure that there is no way the waitress/waiter was not mentally absent, momentarily retarded or wasn't listening. I know this sounds extremely harsh, but if this happens to you on such a regular basis, of course you tend to think that all Uzbek waiters are  horrible. Even if it is only 30% and you don't register the 70% when it does actually go right. So when you go home, you tell everyone how Uzbeks have no feeling for good service. Racist much? Yes I think so, although I still think that that is a normal and human reaction. We categorise because it makes our lives easier. But don't we often unfairly pidgeonhole people without being open to their proving us wrong?

Charlotte then told us about this document on racism in travel blogs (http://www.glokal.org/publikationen/mit-kolonialen-gruessen, and she has a very interesting blog on this as well). Admittedly, I haven't read the whole thing and I found a few things a bit too extreme, but it raises a few questions on who "we" (as "Westerners") are, who "the others" are, how bloggers often reach conclusions that can only be based on a very superficial way of looking at their destination and its people, and how "we" often feel treated unfairly when people at the bazar charge us triple the price of what it would actually cost even though we are in the more privileged situation (because we can afford to travel). I think what it all comes down to is expectations - obviously everyone has certain concepts and ideas of what the world should look like, what people should behave like, depending on where they are from. As hard as we might try to avoid interpreting foreign places from the perspective of our own culture, I think that deep down we still do to a certain extent. Maybe not consciously, but a certain part of me will always feel annoyance, frustration or anger when the waiter gets something wrong - again, even if I do remind myself that I shouldn't generalise now. What matters is what we do with these emotions - that we reflect them - question them - accept that they are natural and completely normal but that they are hardly ever related to the actual situation but to the degree of expectations we had beforehand. I understand that this is not a great revelation and that this is pretty obvious, but for me, this is the only possible explanation as to why people like my co-workers behave the way they do: The big difference between living in a foreign culture for a longer period of time compared to being a tourist (even if its for a month) - when living there, you have to accept the things that are strikingly different, that annoy you, that you maybe hate, as something of your daily life, as something normal. And, believe you me, this was a bit of a difficult task in my first few months. When being a tourist, you can leave this place and complain about it, and that's it.

So my 'wonderful' co-workers have not only not understood that their behaviour makes them intolerant assholes, but also that their life would be a lot easier if they just started to accept their surroundings, even if they don't like everything about it.

Living in Tashkent

The beautiful entry to our house :)

Please excuse my absence!

Even though this may be somewhat boring, I thought I'd give you a little impression of what daily life in Tashkent is like for me and how I spend most of my time here. Excuse if it may be somewhat incoherent as I try to fit as much information in here as possible.

Monday to Friday, I usually get up at 7.30am. First thing in the morning is to make myself a cup of coffee with my much-beloved mokka/ballerina/coffee maker (however you want to call it) which I got as a present in November from a very dear friend of mine. Uzbekistan doesn't really do coffee, and if, it usually has a Nes- in front of it. If bought in a restaurant, it also contains a ridiculous amount of sugar, so having a good cup of coffee here is something pretty special. Also, coffee is only really drunk in winter for some reason. Saskia always brings in the newest edition of German Spiegel magazine from the office, which we often read/discuss during breakfast.. sometimes this involves quite philosophical or depressing conversations about the deteriorating state of the world. And once this ritual even invoked  shrieks from our side related to an incredibly disgusting article on sodomy/zoophilia which disturbed me for the rest of the day.

Work starts at 9am and finishes at 6pm. I work in two different projects which are located in two different buildings..one of them is a 15min walk away from where I live (office 1), and the other one is a little further so I usually take a taxi (office 2). The fact that I am one week in office 1 and the other week in office 2 is indeed a little annoying as it makes communication with the other project a bit difficult, but I don't really mind. The first weeks in the offices weren't easy in both cases, as I found it difficult to find my own place and role within the teams who hadnt really worked with an intern before. Luckily the ice was broken after two months and now I love going for lunch with my colleagues who appreciate my interest in travelling, Uzbekistan and in their lives. In one way or the other, I am part of both teams now and I will be sad to leave them in September.
What do I do at work? I write meeting reports, co-design and co-write factsheets (in general or specific ones for conferences), translate and correct already written texts, create presentations and posters on monitoring and evaluation of our projects and a few other bits and bobs. It's a step-by-step work really in my process of trying to understand how my company and development works in general. It's complex but fascinating at the same time.

I love my way to office 1 as  I pass by a little bazar and flower market where one of the ladies already knows me. Every morning and evening, she greets me with a massive smile on her face and always asks me how I am. She truly is absolutely adorable. As I get home, it depends on the day of the week what I do. I usually stay away from the internet, which is pretty slow and frustrating anyway, and pass my time with household duties (woop woop), baking a ridiculous amount of cakes and Sachertorten for colleagues who have their birthdays, hanging out with Eric with whom I've watched way too much of the Ricky Gervais Show, knitting, watching a movie with Saskia, making music (with my amazing old Russian guitar which I got for my birthday), playing with our tortoise Undine or meeting up with some of the other expats. I also used to go to a belly dancing class twice a week where everyone kind of knew me as the "German girl" and all those who had learned German in school would try to talk to me in German. I also absolutely loved that Dinara, the dancing teacher, would always mind her little 4-year-old daughter during the lessons, so sometimes the girl would join her mum (and us) and try out some of the movements. Never seen such a cute thing! Oh, and in case you were wondering about language barriers - she doesn't really talk much but simply dances so all I had to do was do exactly what she did.  I no longer go because I think it is too easy for me now as my dancing skills are somewhat improving, so I am looking for a new teacher at the moment. Another thing I love doing is to take care of Ernest's (my boss, neighbour and very good friend) birds when he is away. He has three canaries and two lovebirds and they are the cutest thing ever when they sing or take a bath. 

In Tashkent itself there isn't that much to do.. you can't really go to the cinema as movies are mostly dubbed into Russian (with one male voice for all characters) and it's similar with the theatre. One of my students took me to the theater once to see a play by Pushkin, but I only got laughed at when I told my student that all I understood was "dog" and function words such as "why" "because" "when" etc. However, even though Tashkent isn't the most cultural of places, I kind of feel that there is always something going on, mostly because most expats are always interested in trying out new things and because local friends try to show you as much of the city as possible. 

For example, I took part in the Performing Arts Festival of the British School.. Helen and I were judges and had to listen to various perfomances by children and decide on the winner (surprisingly we didn't cause too many tears).

Cheesing away with Helen with our rewards for judging children's performances all day

Then the other week, there was a European film festival which even showed an Austrian movie (named "Atmen"):

 

I obviously went and probably was the only one who understood the Austrian dialect...with an exception of the Austrian ambassador (who is usually located in Vienna) who came exclusively for the festival and who held a little speech before the film started. Knowing him from my brief visit back in Vienna, we briefly chatted after the movie and then went to Chester Pub to chat about a few Austria related issues and its non-presence in Uzbekistan. Interesting meeting indeed, although I found it somewhat disconcerting that I had the feeling that I knew more about Uzbekistan than the ambassador..

Then, one of Tashkent's expat couples, namely Lola (Uzbek) and Martin (Danish), got married. In Uzbek traditions, before or on the day of the wedding, men are invited to join in the wonderful tradition of morning plov. This means you have to get up at 6am so you can have a massive portion of a greasy, oily rice dish with chunks of mutton (fat). Not sure who invented this tradition but it must have either been a plov addict (which, in fairness, applies to almost all Uzbeks), someone with a very strong stomach or someone with a bit of a sadistic tendency to torture fellow men with a dish like that that early in the morning.  However, since the couple wasn't fully Uzbek, they decided to gender the morning plov and invite both men and women - which only earned strange and confused looks by the guy who prepared the dish. Despite my feeling sick for the rest of the day, it was lovely to gather that early in the morning with some lovely people to enjoy some tea and bread and, oh, I almost forgot about the plov in the early morning hours.

Lovely morning plov on tapchans

All you need is plov(e).

The hats we are wearing are called doppi and are traditionally worn by men to festivities or traditional occasions, e.g. weddings, parties or funerals

We also try to keep ourselves entertained by exploring the area a little bit, so the other day we went for a trip in the mountains. Tashkent is surrounded by the Greater Chimgan (part of Tian Shan), a beautiful mountainous range where I have also enjoyed skiing in winter. Initially our plan was to go to a lake to go swimming because we couldn't stand the blazing heat anymore, but then we thought we'd combine a brief hike with a jump in the lake which was close by. Long story short, our trip ended a bit disastrous due to our stupid driver who stood us up and had us wait in rain, 5 degrees and with no food for almost 2 hours. It was still worth it and I'll definitely try to go again, but next time with another driver...

Rare tulips in the mountains that are only in bloom for a few weeks in spring :) So pretty!

Kristina. And snow.

I suppose I can consider myself quite lucky! 

I'll end this blog with a picture of Undine:

Munching away..isn't she adorable?? :)

 

How I didn't go to Nukus

Brief warning: This is a fairly long blog post, and it's very detailed. You may regret reading this, but it's still so fresh and the frustration is still there that I couldn't help myself.

Yesterday, I was already planning a new blog instalment on my newest adventures and travels in Uzbekistan. But - and this really shouldn't surprise me anymore - Uzbekistan always finds a(n incredibly nerve-racking) way to spoil your plans.

Two friends of mine (Paci & Pisi) came over to Tashkent not only to visit me, but also to go on an extensive trip within Uzbekistan. While I helped them with planning their itinerary, they were extremely motivated to go to see the remnants of the Uzbek Aral Sea. Despite these trips being extremely expensive, I thought, this is quite handy as seeing the Aral Sea is on my bucket list as well and going on a trip together means to share costs. So, I decided to take two days off and booked a flight to Urgench. Before the actual day of travelling, a lot of research was involved, such as organising in which hotel to stay, which tour operator to choose, which plane to take, how to get to Nukus from Urgench, how and when to get back to Tashkent, and a lot of other related and time consuming issues.

The plan for me was as followed: 
Thursday April 25th: Fly to Urgench (Khiva) and join my friends who were already there, do some sightseeing in Khiva, take a 3-4h bus/taxi to Nukus in the evening
Friday 26th & Saturday 27th: Aral Sea Tour
Sunday 28th: Do sightseeing in Nukus, flight back to Tashkent in the evening.

A little complicated, but pretty straightforward.
Now, this is what really happened: With a little backpack and quite proud of myself for having been able to get up at 5am without snoozing my alarm about a million times, I took a taxi with a chit-chatty taxi driver to the airport. Even the milizia at the airport were surprisingly friendly and I thought, this day is off to a good start! As I entered the airport, however, I could already sense that something may not go as expected when I didn't see my flight on the 'Departures' table. I doublechecked my ticket for time and date and still went to the counter, where a lady told me in non-existant English that "flight cancelled". Great. She brought me to the Airport Manager, who luckily spoke English, and who then explained to me again that the flight was cancelled but that they could put me on another flight to Urgench that night. Well, with my itinerary, going to Urgench in the evening would have been absolutely useless because I needed to be at Nukus early in the morning to go on the Aral Sea tour. I explained that to him and he said, no problem, we change flight to Nukus tonight, no extra charge. I thought, well, I can always see Khiva another time, but at least I'll still be able to do the tour. However, the problem is always this: promising things around here is done very easily and quickly, and it's definitely a cultural thing that things here are always done orally and that people rarely get any sort of written confirmation. This is also something I had to get used to when working here, as there are often issues where people promise you things or discuss something with you on the phone and give you some sort of order, but the promise or information from one person is useless if you talk to another  person about the same issue the next day. I asked him firmly if he could assure me that he would organise a seat for me on the plane that night, and he said he would try. "Trying" wasn't exactly what I was hoping for, but it was all I could achieve for now. Home I went, admittedly a little depressed and annoyed, but after texting Eric about my misfortunes, comforting myself with some hot chocolate and praying that I would be able to fly tonight, I went straight back to bed. 
Eric then told me that, apparently, something similar has happened to Rob who also wanted to fly to Urgench with Aziz, the helpful security guard of the British school who has helped foreigners out numerous times before. Rob was also told that his flight was cancelled and that there were no seats for another early flight to Urgench....until Aziz called someone, pulled a few strings and suddenly they were able to board a plane of which they were told that it was fully booked. Standard Uzbekistan. So I took my chances and called Aziz to ask if he could do the same for me, and after a few hours he called me back to inform me that they have now booked me on the Nukus flight and that I should be at the airport 2 hours beforehand, just to make sure. I was somewhat relieved and was counting the hours until I could finally go on my well-deserved holiday.
I went to the airport, queued at the counter and was told that 1) the flight to Nukus was delayed to 10pm and 2) that I wasn't on it. I started arguing with a different airport manager again, as he was the only person in the entire airport who spoke English, and ended up being close to tears because I didn't get anywhere with it. He could neither put me on the flight, nor tell me what I could do, nor help me out in any other way, but at least he was sympathetic because he saw how desperate I was. He, however, was also extremely busy because of tons of other people like me were pestering him about the delay of the flight. The problem was also that, apparently, they didn't know if the plane to Nukus would be a small or a big one, so that they wouldn't be able to tell me until about 8.30pm if I could be on the flight or not. It was 5pm, so that would have meant 3.5 hours of stupidly waiting around.  I called Aziz again and had him talk to another important-looking but only Uzbek speaking guy on the phone if he could convince him to get me on the flight. That guy promised him that he would personally make sure that I would be. Sounds good, right? Except that this stupid asshole was a fecking liar, as he didn't even know my name and did not have my passport details (and he didn't ask me about them either). You can see from my use of language here the level of annoyance I had reached by that time. 
I sat down for a while and tried to think what I could do. I did not want to give up that quickly, knowing that persistency is what you need in order to achieve what you want in Uzbekistan. So, I called the Aral Sea tour guide to inform him about the situation and inquired if it was possible to still do the tour if I took the flight to Nukus the next morning at 7am. He said that it wouldn't be a problem and that I should just let him know when I have booked my new flight. With some new hopes, I went to the English speaking airport manager again to ask if that was possible, and he said yes, but also said that the Nukus flight that night was now no longer delayed but cancelled. He did, however, lead me to to the ticket selling counter and said I should just try to get on the plane the next morning. He left, and I was able to inform the lady at the counter about my problem in RUSSIAN..obviously it was broken Russian, very basic and I still had to use my hands, but she understood what I was talking about and I am genuinely proud of myself for having managed that situation so well in a language that has only caused me troubles to far. So, I asked if she could book me on the flight to Nukus the next morning. She made a sad face and said that it was fully booked. I asked her again, just to make sure, and she confirmed what she had just told me - again making a sad face. I stood there in pure desperation, rested my head on my arms while leaning on the counter and just thought to myself Das kann einfach nicht wahr sein. An Uzbek guy standing beside me tried to comfort me in Russian, smiled at me and said that we would find a solution. Very sweet, indeed. The lady at the counter then told me that she would keep my passport and ticket, and that maybe things change when I sit down and wait. What?? How should that help? My Russian skills did not suffice here and I didn't understand what she was saying. So, I gave up, and called Nodi if he would come to the airport and help me out. A sweetheart as he is, he came 15 minutes later and confirmed that there were no seats to Nukus left - until Monday. This is it, I thought. There is no way I can get to Nukus. (except going by bus, but that would have taken me 22hours on bumpy roads, and after all that hassle I genuinely wasn't in the mood for that). 
Nodi then asked the lady about reimbursement, and she said that we would have to get a confirmation from the airport manager first that the flight was actually cancelled, and go to the airline's headquarter/travel agency today before it closes. If you don't do it within the day on which it is cancelled, you get 25% less. Honestly, what stupid rule is that? And what did that mean for us? It was 6.45pm, and the travel agency closed at 7pm....Nodi and I raced to the airport manager's counter, boxed a few people aside to get his signature and stamp, and sprinted outside to catch a taxi. Of course the taxi driver took the slowest route possible, and we got there at 7.03pm. There were just closing the doors and it had just started raining, as Nodi and I hurried out of the taxi and pleaded with the security guys to let us in. Luckily, they understood the problem and did so, but the ladies there would refuse to serve us. They did, however, acknowledge that we did try to come in time, and said we could come again tomorrow without having to pay any fines. Another one of those oral promises....
I am meeting Nodi at the travel agency again tonight after work, and I am praying that they will refund me the full amount...

Update: They refunded me the full amount! Good news :)

Wortsalate

Eine Entschuldigung vorab, dass ich keine Umlaute verwende, aber ich schreib auf einer russischen Tastatur.

Dieser Post soll eine kurze Zusammenfassung einiger klassischer Fehler sein, die Usbekisch- bzw. Russischmuttersprachler machen, wenn sie Deutsch lernen. Der Grund fuer diesen Post ist einerseits, weil es ziemlich spannend ist auf Interferenzfehler draufzukommen und, andererseits, auch den Einfluss von uralten Lehrbuechern sowie auch kultureller Unterschiede auf die Wortwahl/das Vokabular der Lernenden  zu entdecken. Jeder, der schon einmal Deutsch unterrichtet hat oder viel mit Nichtmuttersprachlern zutun hatte, wird verstehen, dass man seine Studis manchmal total suess findet, weil Aussprache, Fehler oder Formulierungen einfach nur niedlich sind - ja, ein bisschen infantilisierend, aber es ist nunmal so :) Bevor das hier noch jemand falsch versteht, sei auch zu erwaehnen, dass ich im Folgenden nicht laestern moechte - vor allem im Hintergrund einiger der peinlichen Sprachsuenden, die ich selbst bereits im Russischen begangen habe.. Hier also zuerst eine kleine Sammlung an Fehlern, die Ulli und ich im Laufe unserer ziemlich erfolglosen Russischlernkarriere gemacht haben:

1) Ich musste im Unterricht ein Comic beschreiben, wo in einem Bild ein Mann einer Frau Blumen schenkt. Also sagte ich mutig drauf los: он дарит ей дети. (lautmalerisch "on darit jej djeti") Meine Lehrerin fing lauthals an zu lachen und wiess mich auf meinen Irrtum hin. Was ich meinte: "Er schenkt ihr Blumen". Was ich wirklich sagte: "Er schenkt ihr Kinder" - was kann ich denn dafuer, wenn Kinder (дети, djeti) und Blumen (цветы, tsveti) so aehnlich klingen...? :)

2) In Taschkent gibt es einen Fernsehturm (auf Russisch телевишка "televischka", oder so aehnlich), den Ulli und Nodi eines sonnigen Tages besichtigen wollten. Ulli konnte und konnte sich nicht merken, dass es "televischka" und nicht "televischna" hiess. Vischnja heisst naemlich Kirsche. Der Gedanke, zum Taxifahrer "Telekirsche" zu sagen, gab uns wiederholte Lachkraempfe..:)

3) Aufstehen am fruehen Morgen ist schwer, vor allem wenn einem eine Stunde Russisch mit Irina bevorsteht  (eine zweistuendige Tortur, wo auf Russisch auf einen eingeredet und einem keine Chance zum Nachdenken gegeben wird). Besonders Ulli kam nie aus den Federn, und wir schafften es, zu unserer Schande, Irina manchmal fast 20 Minuten warten zu lassen. So fragte ich Nodi eines Tages scherzhalber, wie ich Irina denn  "Ulli ist Schuld" sagen koennte. Aha, auf Russisch also Ульрике виноват  "Ulrike vinovat". Als die Phrase wieder aktuell wurde, kam dann die Frage: Wie sag ich das nochmal, "Ulrike vinograd"?   "Vinograd" heisst Weintraube.

Folgend also, wie angekuendigt, die haeufigsten Fehlgriffe von Deutschlernenden in Usbekistan:

1) SCHMACKHAFT - im Alltag komme ich oft in Situationen, wo wir entweder ueber deutsches/oesterreichisches, oder usbekisches Essen sprechen. Schmeckt dir Plov? Hast du schon mal Schnitzel gegessen? Als ich in Berlin war gab es ueberall Currywurst! usw.  Von vielen Seiten - Studis, Professoren verschiedener Unis oder Reisefuehrer - kam in diesem Kontext immer sowas aehnliches wie "Das ist wirklich sehr schmackhaft". Aeh, schmackhaft? Verwendet doch heutzutage niemand mehr, oder lieg ich da falsch? Was sagt man denn eigentlich wirklich? Mit "lecker" wird man gleich als Piefke abgestempelt, "gschmackig" ist zu oesterreichisch und "geil" vielleicht etwas zu umgangssprachlich. Amuesant jedenfalls, weil dieses Wort offensichtlich in zahlreichen sowjetischen Deutschlehrbuechern verwendet und bis heute noch so unterrichtet wird.

2) SICH SEHNEN NACH - eine Woche ist man nicht an der Uni wegen Krankheit, schon sagten mir zahlreiche Studis "Kristina, wir haben uns SO nach Ihnen gesehnt!" Idiomatisch nicht ganz passend und kommt wahrscheinlich vom russischen Wort "скучать", welches auch in meinem Langenscheidt Russisch-Deutsch Woerterbuch als "sich sehnen nach" und - oh! - auch als "sich langweilen" uebersetzt wird. Das wuerde natuerlich erklaeren, warum ich auch schonmal "Ich habe mich so nach Ihnen gelangweilt" zu Ohren bekommen habe...

3) WIE GEHT ES DU? - In Usbekistan/im Usbekischen sind die Regeln des Duzens und Siezens nicht mit den Regeln im Deutschen zu vergleichen. Die "Sie"- (eigentlich ja "Ihr"-) Form steht zwar auch fuer Respekt, aber findet schon in der Familie Anwendung. So muss man seine aelteren Geschwister siezen, seine Eltern siezen, und auch seine StudienkollegInnen an der Uni - von Professoren oder Leuten, die auch nur wenig aelter sind als man selbst, ganz zu schweigen. Geduzt werden also nur juengere, bzw enge Freunde, oder die juengeren Geschwister. Wie bereits in vorherigen Blogposts erwaehnt ist Usbekistan sehr regionalistisch, so dass sich auch diese kulturellen "Regeln" von Region zu Region unterscheiden. Mir wurde schon oefters erzaehlt, dass es einige Gegenden gibt, wo sogar Kleinkinder und Babies gesiezt werden. Jedenfalls widerspiegelt sich das auch in der Verwendung der deutschen Sprache. Obwohl ich bei usbekischen Freunden meist sofort das Du-Wort angeboten habe, werde ich aus Gewohnheitsgruenden trotzdem immer noch gesiezt - auch einfach, weil sie im Alltag nie die Du-Form im Deutschen konjugieren muessen. Phrasen wie "Wie geht es Ihnen?" werden schnell gelernt, das Duz-aequivalent jedoch nie. Also ist es keine Seltenheit, hier "Wie geht es du?" gefragt zu werden. Und bei so einer Frage, will man ja dann auch nicht unhoeflich sein und gleich ausbessern...

4) IM INTERNET SITZEN - "Meine Hobbys sind Freunde treffen, im Internet sitzen, usw." Klassischer Interferenzfehler aus dem Russischen (und angeblich auch im Usbekischen), da man hier wirklich "im Internet sitzen" (сидеть в интернете "sidet v internete") sagt. 

5) ICH KRISTINA - im Russischen gibt es kein Wort wie "sein". "Ich bin Kristina" wird also vor allem bei Sprachanfaengern zu "Ich Kristina".

Vielleicht faellt mir ja bald noch mehr ein.. :) 

Intercultural spring celebrations

The first thing you may want to know: I am successfully registered and no longer illegal in the country! Good news.

Returning to Tashkent was a little strange after being home for three weeks, but I think I am somewhat fully readjusted now. Of course there are still issues and situations at work that are new to me and that have me rethink my own idea of work, or the kind of relationship you have to your work colleagues cause even these things differ culturally. But in the end, these situations develop my skills in intercultural communication and help me grow as a person.

Returning to Tashkent was also important, as going back home did not only make me realize how much I missed certain things about home and, therefore, raised my appreciation of my own hometown, but also reminded me of the things I genuinely didn't miss. As a result, there was a part of me that really looked forward to returning to Tashkent, and after struggling a little to readjust, I enjoy being back. As a very dear friend of mine has said, it's important to experience all four seasons in order to really get a feel for a place, and I completely agree with him. After a short but sunny autumn, a snowy and comparatively short winter with a dry cold, it is finally spring. I love to go for a walk to enjoy Tashkent's verdant green of its blooming trees, and the gentle warmth of spring's sun on my face while sitting in our flowering garden.

On a rainy Sunday afternoon

The sun's coming back!

Spring in Tashkent. A road close to where I live.

 The beginning of spring, i.e. the 'beginning of life' is also extensively celebrated in Uzbekistan on the 21st of March - the celebration is called Navruz (sometimes also spelled Newroz, Nauryz, meaning "new day" in Farsi) and is the most important holiday in Uzbekistan (and in a lot of other countries, too, such as Iran, Afghanistan and Tadjikistan). Already when I arrived in Tashkent at the beginning of October, all my students tried to convince me to stay longer to celebrate Navruz with them, and so I did. Navruz symbolises the victory of spring over winter, of light over darkness, and this tradition is said to have derived from a zoroastrian ritual from about 3000 years ago. Even months before the 21st of March, students were missing classes due to official preparations for celebrations in parks and on Mustaqillik square, and many school groups and choirs were seen to go in and out of rehearsals for this big day. I was unlucky enough not to experience any of the official celebrations despite our checking out some of the biggest parks in Tashkent before it started raining that day. I was, however, invited to the Navruz celebrations at my old University a few days later, which I happily accepted. The holiday is marked by the preparation of one of Uzbekistan's national dishes, namely sumalak, so that I was asked to join the preparation ceremony at 7pm on a Friday night. Sumalak is a brown, sweet paste made of germinated wheat and water cooked in a massive cauldron (called kasan)*. Since the wheat and water take a long time to thicken, it is cooked all night long, and there is a whole set of traditions related to its preparation. It is believed that Sumalak is much tastier if the people preparing it celebrate, sing songs and dance, and so we also did so at University. Matthias and I were asked to stir and were told that we could make a wish.

We weren't able to try sumalak until the next day, when the actual Navruz celebrations took place. Once again, tables were filled with amounts of food that nobody could possibly eat, music was blaring out of loudspeakers, and dancing, speeches on good luck  and performances (drama, dance) were taking their turns. It's impossible to deny dancing at an Uzbek celebration, so that Matthias and I were reluctantly pulled on the 'dance floor' to join in their happiness. Despite my dislike of being force-fed (I know I sound ungrateful here, but everyone who has lived in Uzbekistan will understand), I genuinely enjoyed celebrating with my former students who would not stop telling me how much they had missed me. I realised how much I had missed them, and I became a little nostalgic of having to move on from the joys of teaching them. My nostalgia was interrupted when it was announced that sumalak was ready. We all gathered around the kasan in order to take part in an ancient rite: Everyone is dying to see which design appears on the surface of the finished sumalak, as the shape of the design would be used for fortune telling. Apparently the variety of which design the surface can take is quite big, from seeing a bird, to a tree or a flower. Our sumalak, however, clearly showed a sun. Since there was nobody to interpret its meaning, I am just going to guess that it"s a sign for a positive and good year :)

Now it was time to finally try sumalak. My housemate Saskia had already told me about how  she was told the previous year that it tastes similar to Nutella, only to find out that it really doesn't, so that it was a bit of a disappointment. I tried to tell myself not to except anything, and certainly not Nutella. Also, how much can go wrong with something consisting of wheat and water? A massive cup was served and I was scared that I wouldn't like it, meaning that I would have to finish it nevertheless cause I didn't want to hurt the feelings of my former students who looked at me with big and hopeful eyes and who asked me repeatedly if I really did like it. It was okay - it's definitely not similar to Nutella, but it's somewhat sweet and not too bad (I was glad, however, that they didn't have any spoon left for me, so that I didn't have to finish the whole cup!)

The brown stuff in the cup is sumalak

The students are dancing away.

 

Uzbekistan is regionalistic so that every region has different national dresses, ways of making plov and baking bread.

A student from Khorezm dancing a traditional dance

It was a beautiful celebration, particularly because I was able to spend it with people I genuinely like. As much as I liked Navruz, I also thoroughly enjoyed our own culture's (kind of) spring celebration on the following weekend: Easter! Even though Easter isn't as much of as family holiday as Christmas (for me at least), it makes a big difference when you spend it in a country where it isn't celebrated at all and, sometimes, not even heard of. Luckily Saskia was as convinced as I was to at least have a lovely Easter breakfast together, so we gathered together all of our imported goods (such as colours to dye eggs, Milka chocolate eggs and bunnies, pumpernickel, Viennese coffee, etc.), baked homemade Striezel, dyed eggs in five different colours and set up a lovely Fruhstuckstisch as we know it from home. This may not sound that special to you, but it really is considering how many things there are you have to do without with in Uzbekistan, particularly regarding food. We didn't go on an easter egg hunt, but really enjoyed bringing a tradition that we all grew up with to a country so different by chatting away in the early hours of this rainy Easter Sunday. Celebrating German/Austrian holidays together is also a bonding thing, so that I've felt a lot more comfortable in the new house ever since.

As I have mentioned before, spring is the time of renewal and of a 'new start', and it really is for me, considering that I have a new job and live in a new environment. For some reason, however, I felt as though something was missing in my life and that I would need something else that is completely new for me...;) After thinking about this a little while, considering and reconsidering the advantages and disadvantages, talking to Saskia and Matthias, as well as our landlady, I decided to take action. Please let me introduce you to my new housemate:

Her name is Undine, and she is a very lovely and pretty Russian tortoise. Tortoises like her are dirt cheap over here (I payed 8000 Uz sum at Askiya bazar, which is about 2.50 Euro) because Uzbekistan is their natural habitat, meaning that it's also very easy to keep them. We simply keep her in the garden, feed her and give her fresh water everyday, soak her every now and then, install a little shelter from rain and natural predators, and, of course, keep her company. So far, her favorite food is lettuce and dandelion, and she loves to lie in the sun, but we are only in the process of getting to know each other! I love her to pieces and will be sad to leave her behind when I leave Uzbekistan in September..

* Recipes seem to vary, as this blog, for example, states that the ingredients are wheat, flour and vegetable oil.

Hello Tashkent, I am back!

Hello everyone,

I am back in Tashkent. The life I am leading here now will be very different compared to what it was like before - I live in a different apartment with different people now, I have a different job and a lot of the people who I used to spend most of my time with have left the country. I suppose it's one of the things you have to get used to as an expat, namely that people come and go all the time - contracts are rarely issused for longer than a year. While I am feeling slightly lost because my very good friend, roommate and Bezugsperson Ulli has left, I guess I am pretty lucky because at least some of friends are still here. There are my new housemates Matthias and Saskia - Matthias of course being my former co-worker at Uni - and Saskia who I also got to know in my very first week in Tashkent. There is my neighbour Ernest from Spain, whose training room I still use to relax or train, as well as whose birds (3 canaries and 2 lovebirds) I still take care of when he is away. There is still the very energetic crowd from the British School of Tashkent, and the Irishman Eric in particular, who always finds a way to calm me down and distracts me from another Uzbek frustration. And, of course, there are also some of my former students as well as other Uzbeks who are always up for joining me when going to a museum, celebrating a holiday or helping me out when I am - once again - struggling with Russian. And, of course, I am currently getting to know my new co-workers who are all very supportive on my very first days in the new office. I suppose that things are going pretty well for me so far!

The house I live in now is only a 15min walk from the place where I used to live and about a 25min walk away from work which is pretty handy. It's a one-storeyed house consisting of two parts - in one part you can find the kitchen, living room, bathroom and toilet, as well as Saskia's room and, last but not least, my room (guess what, I still don't have a proper bed! but it's not as bad as the last one) In the middle between the two parts, there is a little garden and a beautiful terrace beneath a wooden canopy, as well as... you will never guess it... a pool! This will prove very very handy in summer when it gets up to 42 degrees celcius. Matthias lives in the other part of the house, which also has a bathroom and toilet, as well as a bedroom and library. Despite my dislike for high temperatures, I can't wait until it gets warmer when you can actually spend time on the terrace as well as organise BBQs, although I shouldn't forget to mention that it's actually pretty warm already (especially when it's still snowing in most other places.. hehe).

You may remember my very first post when I told you about the frustrations of getting registered in Uzbekistan. I thought I was now prepared for it, knowing how incredibly stupid Uzbek bureaucracy can be.. but - who would have thought so - it can always get much, much worse. Before I start recounting this tale of major frustration, there are two details you should know about: Firstly, you have to register within 72 hours after your arrival - if you omit to do so, you will be fined 3 million Uzbek sum (which is about 1,480$). Secondly, the organisation I am working for consists of two offices which are about a 15-20min drive apart, which often causes logistical problems. Within my blog I will refer to them as office 1 (where I work) and office 2 (where I don't work). Alrighty, now that you know that, let me begin with the story: For registration you need all sorts of documents, such as the floorplan of your apartment, your landlord(s) passports, your own passport, a letter from your workplace and probably a lot more that I don't know about.  I had arranged with my landlady and her husband to meet me at the house Monday 3pm, so we could then drive to the OVIR (registration office) together. As we got there, we found out that since the organisation I am working for is international, they would have to do the registration via the Uzbek foreign ministry. So we went to the ministry, where they discussed some issue for about 45min in a mixture of Russian and Uzbek..however everytime I asked them if there was a problem, they would answer "no problem, no problem!". In the end we found out (well, the landlady would tell me in a very poor mixture of English and Russian) that we would have to speak to Alisher, the logistics officer of my organisation, to provide the right company-related documents. So we drove to office 2, where they, once again, discussed my registration in length (again saying that there was, of course, no problem, no problem), which resulted in that Alisher would take care of it the next day. Everything sorted... well, so I thought.

The next day Adelina (an assistant at office 2) wrote me an email that I would have to come to office 2 to pick up the money for the registration. Not quite understanding why, I called her to inquire what exactly I should do with it, so she told me I that I should go to the OVIR by myself to pay for the registration. Well, the OVIR is not only a horrible but also massive place, so that I said that I wouldn't be able to go there on my own because of three reasons. Firstly, Alisher had all the documents, even my passport, so that I couldn't even tell/show the officials what I would like to pay for. Secondly, I had no idea to which official I should give the money to. And thirdly, I am far from having a full conversation in Russian. Adelina then said that she was too busy, so that I should speak to Alisher. Alisher, however, was really busy too and when I asked that I would, under no circumstances, would go to the OVIR by myself because I knew exactly that it would be fruitless, he got a little annoyed with me and asked, well is it REALLY too much to ask of you to go there on your own? Well, for fuck's sake, I don't speak the language, so YES, it is! After a lengthy discussion and me feeling absolutely helpless because it seemed as if nobody felt responsible for me, he did, however, suggest that I should get a driver and merely tell him that I would also need him to help me at the OVIR. Well, there wasn't a driver at our office, so that I waited around for 2 hours until I finally decided to take some action and asked one of my co-workers if he would help me convince one of the drivers to come back to our office. So he did, and the driver picked me up, drove me to office 2 so that I could pick up the money from Adelina and then drove me to the OVIR. Surprise, surprise - after searching for several minutes where we could pay, the official at the OVIR told us that we couldn't just show up without any documents and, particularly, without any identification. The driver was annoyed, I was even more annoyed, and back we drove to office 1 not knowing exactly what to do. You see, the problem was this: By the time I got back to office 1 without achieving any progress regarding my registration, it was already 4.30pm.. which meant that the OVIR would close soon, and that there would be no way to register me before the 72 hours were over. I was silently freaking out because time was running out. Particularly because Alisher, who had all the necessary documents, would not pick up his phone, even after calling repeatedly. I called Adelina again and asked her what I should do, so she responded that I should bring the money for the registration back to office 2 and that Alisher would take care of it. At that point, I just stopped to care and thought to myself, I did everything I could do, so I am just going to put it into their hands. I am not sure what happened now, but I am praying that they somehow managed to sort out my registration in time.

All this frustration, uncertainty, feeling helpless and driving from one place to the other left me absolutely knackered at the end of the day, so that I fell asleep at 9pm only to wake up 11hours later...