Lost Tashkent

I see that my original post on Tashkent was lost to the winds of the Internet. It's hard to post from Uzbekistan because the government blocks access to Blogger, the service that I use. They probably saw the Chinese blocking all self-publishing tools on the Internet and thought it was a good idea. But I will try to recap the main themes in my Tashkent post here:

We drove to Tashkent from Osh, through the Ferghana Valley. The Ferghana Valley is a messed up place, the victim of Soviet-era forced migration to fuel the vast cotton plantations being built there, and also of subsequent Stalinist gerrymandering, dividing the area among Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Kyrgyzstan in such a way so as to ensure none of those soviet regions would ever be an independent state. Except, of course, that those regions did become independent when the USSR broke up, and the region, as predicted, became a powder keg which had a minor eruption in 2006 in what became known as the Andijon massacre in Uzbekistan. So, as we rode thru Ferghana, there were a LOT of police checkpoints, and no one looked happy.

It's important to note that Uzbekistan today is a Dictatorship, or a Monarchy. In the independence shuffle, one man, Islam Karimov, came to power as Uzbekistan's president and has wielded absolute power since. This can be seen in the ubiquitous police presence, the restriction on communication (no blogs, no mobile phones for foreigners), and in the gaudy monuments around the country.

After six hot hours in a "shared taxi", we came to Tashkent, once the 3rd largest city of the Soviet Union, and the major hub for the Central Asian empire. During it's previous life, it developed into one of the only "civilized" places for the Russian over-class to live in this vast hinterland, and they flocked to it in droves. At one point it was over 50% Russian. We shared the taxi with a young Russian man named Yvgeny, who was a law student who had been working in Kyrgyzstan as a mountaineering guide for the summer. He spoke English pretty well, and was able to negotiate on our behalf with the Uzbek police checkpoints... though to be honest I'm not sure if having a Russian in the car was a benefit or liability.

Tashkent itself is actually a rather pleasant city, very leafy, with wide avenues and a strong vibe of life. It's full of boisterous Uzbeks and demure-in-speech but outspoken-in-dress Russians. It's clear that today, however, it is a very poor city - visible in both the poor upkeep of the old soviet edifices and in the tinny quality of all the new buildings that have been built. Despite considerable petroleum reserves, the average monthly wage here is about $40... African levels.

I really like the Central Asian bargaining scheme. Like in China or India, there are no set prices, and haggling abounds. But the soviet order has tamed this in two significant ways: Firstly, the opening offer is intended to be roughly in line with the expected outcome -- a seller will offer 50 if he intends to settle on 40 (not 5, as in China). Secondly, this haggling usually happens after the service is rendered. For example, in taxis, the driver will take you to your destination, then wait for you to pay him what you think that ride was worth. We've been generous, offering $1-2 for most of our in-town rides, and we've yet to get anything but a thank you and a smile. Of course -- these aren't proper taxis that we've been riding in, but what appear to be just the cars of regular dudes, on their way to or from work, who pull over their ancient Russian-made Ladas to give a lift to stranger, in anticipation of some pocket cash.

I had my haircut in a Tashkent Beauty салон (Salon), which was quite an experience. There were 5 or 6 severely Russian women, dressed so severely that I for a moment though that "Salon" was a euphemism for something else. But if it was, I didn't matter, because I got a first-rate haircut with none of the usual "so what kind of work do you do" nonsense (she didn't speak English). At the end of the hour-long process, she made her opening offer: about $3. I didn't haggle.